I Beg, But Not For Me
by Rasiaa
Summary: He remembers a lot of pain, being fought by the prophet Chuck Shurley. But he would never fight back. So he sent warnings through dreams instead, to no avail. He knows that it hurt. When something... something happened. But he draws a blank. Then the radio buzzes with the whispered Enochian.


_This is posted as a muti-chapter on ao3, but since this site requires that I have a new document for every chapter, I said fuck it and waited until the last chapter was posted there before I posted it here. Each number is a new chapter... yada yada._

* * *

1\. _To Save What Has Been Lost_

The radio is buzzing.

Chuck frowns. He turns to it and cranks the volume. The buzzing noise gradually becomes a high pitched whine, and while the windows don't care for the sound, Chuck finds himself disregarding this fact to listen to the radio.

He would recognize Enochian anywhere.

 _Met... take... over..._ more buzzing, indistinguishable _... What... Heaven... Not this. I never wanted this. Father, hear me and I beg for your help... not for me. But for them. My brothers and sisters who are going to die..._

He jolts, and the papers fly off the desk and flutter to the floor. He can feel it now, this familiar, ancient, white hot feeling... The last time had been when he had sealed his sister away.

His children. They've run astray.

He searches, reaching for the gold tendrils of power that keeps this world aloft. He folds himself into them and Death catches on immediately. Chuck can feel the measuring of the being's gaze, and then he just nods. Chuck moves on.

The cage is easy to open and he greets his archangels with open arms, taking in their broken wings and broken minds and barely manages to fix the third Winchester brother before he is swept up in the grief of his oldest children.

He soothes them with meaningless words and healing hands, pulling loose the damaging feathers from their wings and gradually watching the color return to them. The dull grays vanish under his care. Michael's bloom to the inky green of life, vivre, with mixes of gold and yellow and blue and red in the back of the wings. He remembers this color well. This is the color he based most of the Earth off of, and even then, the planet looks weak compared to the raw green and gold of Michael's wings.

Luc is next, begging helplessly the entire time, shaking and wailing. Chuck feels his heart break a little, and when Michael turns his nose up at his brother's suffering, he reaches over and tugs, hard, at the boy's grace. Michael snarls, then prompts cowers, his grace folding tightly into him. Michael runs tentative fingers through Luc's wings, and with his help, the pure white of Luc's wings shines the way it once had.

Chuck pulls away, leaving the door open to the cage, restoring Adam to his body and giving the boy a gentle nudge to get him on his feet again.

In his chair, Chuck takes in a deep breath and then delves back into the golden magic.

But Gabriel and Raphael are nowhere to be found.

He frowns, and thinks, and it comes to him; the pain he remembers, but his vessel had been the one in control both times. He barely made it through it, but suppressed as he was, he could do nothing.

He knows now.

The hotel is first, and Chuck breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of the broken vessel of his youngest archangel, and more importantly, the specs of dusty, shattered grace imbedded beneath the floorboards.

It is enough.

Michael and Luc aren't far, but they both keep their distance as Gabriel takes a slow, shallow breath.

Chuck isn't stupid.

 _"Which of you killed him?"_

 _"Lucifer."_

Michael rats his brother out immediately, and once the look of indignant rage consumes Luc's face, Chuck remembers with sudden clarity why he left. An hour with them and they're already fighting and he's already exhausted.

 _"I will deal with you later, Luciel,"_ he warns.

Luc nods.

Unlike his older brothers, Chuck notes with approval that Gabriel kept his wings clean. He sits up in the debris of the Elysian Fields Motel, and the flap of his iridescent gold wings makes the wind pick up for miles. The six full wings of his messenger are a sight he thought he would never see again, after the boy had run away.

He had hidden himself well.

But now, he reaches for Chuck and breathes slowly, feeling terribly small in Chuck's arms. Luc and Michael stare without a word and Chuck narrows his eyes at them. They shuffle.

Right now, he is most likely going to entrust Heaven to Gabriel, given the history of clearly _wonderful_ care that Michael had governed it with.

He would give it to the boy right now if he wasn't aware of Gabriel's flightiness.

He returns to his vessel momentarily, checking that the Prophet was still asleep and not dead before he sets out again, this time to a warehouse with ancient sigils on the walls and old blood splatters on the concrete.

Gabriel is at his side first, being the fastest of all the angels. He lets out a low whistle. _"Cassie did a number on Ralph, did he?"_

 _"Beg pardon?"_

 _"This place stinks of Castiel's tainted grace. Raphael is on the walls, Father."_

Castiel. The youngest of his angels. He remembers Gabriel's charge well, the dark-feathered Angel of Thursday. _"You clearly did a poor job in raising him, that he managed this one."_

Gabriel withers, cowed. He says nothing.

But that's alright. Pulling Raphael together is a bit like a jigsaw puzzle, with bits and pieces of grace missing even after the third archangel stands on unsteady legs. _"Father? Is that you?"_

He smiles.

...

Castiel freezes in the middle of his sentence, and Metatron furrows his eyebrows. "Why is your pocket glowing?" he demands over the Skype call, and Sam pales.

"Is that...?"

Castiel reaches into the pocket of his trench coat, pulling the glowing amulet out with trembling fingers.

There is a flutter of wings behind them, and every one of the angels zeroes in on the Archangel Gabriel, impossibly alive. He bows slightly, just enough for acknowledgement, and at once many of the angels drop to their knees. Most have never seen Gabriel, or any of the other three archangels, who only came out of their niches of heaven when in times of dire need. That is to say, they never did.

Castiel glances at Metatron, and sees with satisfaction that the rogue angel appears to be speechless.

Gabriel says nothing for several long moments, scanning the crowd before focusing on the Winchester brothers. He smiles at them, his whole face lighting up. Dean is seemingly frozen, staring with his mouth slightly open, but Sam waves with a tentative smile in return, and.

The Messenger looks like his life has been made.

Then he clears his throat, and says loudly, "This charade stops immediately. Every angel is to return to heaven, and our Father will have words. He is not pleased."

A shiver runs through the room, and Castiel can feel himself begin to cry.

...

2\. _When the White Flag Sails_

The flutter of wings quakes the halls, and then Sam, Dean, and Gabriel find themselves alone with Cas and Metatron, who, of course, is already in heaven. Gabriel moves, fluid and so angel-like that Dean finds himself shocked all over again. He barely knew Gabriel the Archangel before he died, and it's clear that that is who he is seeing. Not Loki.

The amulet has stopped glowing. "Well," Metatron says loudly, and Gabriel freezes, focusing with frightening intensity on him. "I'll just..." The call cuts.

Gabriel furrows his eyebrows, and then he shrugs and stands in front of Castiel, who wipes angrily at his face to rid himself of the tears. "I hope he realizes he is one of the ones who will be most heavily punished," he says cheerfully, pressing two fingers to Castiel's forehead. Castiel closes his eyes.

"I suppose I will as well, then," he muses.

Gabriel opens his mouth to reply.

"He'd better not!" Dean cuts in scathingly, reaching for Castiel, who stumbles a bit with the force with which Dean drags him behind him. "I don't-"

"Oh, cut it out," the archangel interrupts, irritated. "If Castiel was to be punished as heavily as Metatron, we would have just taken the stolen grace. As it is, I was ordered to restore him."

Dean stands and gapes like a fish out of water. Sam snickers, and Dean cuffs him round the head, not turning around, with the practiced ease that only comes with being the older sibling. Castiel takes a shuddering breath. "I can feel that, brother," he says, relief staining the words. Gabriel preens while Dean pulls Castiel into a hug.

"Thank god," he whispers, and Castiel snorts lightly as he wraps his arms around Dean in turn.

"Evidently," he agrees.

Dean takes in a breath and then releases him. "I guess you have to go to heaven," he says, and Castiel nods, looking over Dean's shoulder at Gabriel, who pulls back from whatever he was saying to Sam with a nod.

He taps his wrist. "Time is of the essence, Cassie!"

Sam rolls his eyes. "Then get lost, you overgrown five year old."

"I take offense to that," Gabriel objects, then disappears. Castiel follows, and Sam is left with Dean.

...

"...What the fuck?"

Sam can attest to that. "I dunno, man," he says, looking around at the faintly beeping computers. "That had to be the last thing I expected to happen today."

"Yeah," Dean agrees. "It seems a bit fishy, you know? Archangel coming back to life just as Cas was about to be defeated by Metatron? And the amulet?"

The mention of that old thing brings a heavy weight on Sam's shoulders. "God was in this room," he reveals, and Dean nods, looking befuddled.

"Figured that much out myself," he says. "I just didn't think it worked, and I didn't realize Cas still had it."

Sam nods in agreement. "So what are we going to do?"

Dean shrugs, folding himself into the chair behind him, "Not much we can do, is there? Can't fight God and Gabriel," Sam feels himself pale at the thought, and Dean quickly amends his statement, "Or just God, I guess."

Sam curses himself.

"What the hell, man?" Dean demands, leaning forward. "Don't tell me you actually like the douche."

Sam wouldn't dream of it. "He died to save us, Dean," he points out instead, carefully keeping his voice level. Talking about Gabriel after all these years, despite having just seen the angel, is like opening all the old wounds and pouring salt into them again.

Dean shrugs. "He killed me a thousand times first," he counters. Sam rolls his eyes.

"You don't even remember it."

"I remember your nightmares."

Sam's silent. Dean rolls his eyes, this time. "Look man, it looks like this is going to turn into a chick-flick moment, so I might as well just tell you this- I don't like him. I don't know what you're planning to do about him, but I guess I'll stay out of it. But his ass is grass if he hurts you again."

Sometimes Sam's a little floored by how much Dean actually cares. He never really says it.

...

Heaven has been restored to the glory Castiel barely remembers: as full of life and rich in color as the wings of each Archangel, each of them leaves their mark when they're here. And for all but maybe three centuries of Castiel's life, there were only two of the four.

It's incredible, and Castiel hardly cares that his youth shines through as he looks at the place he once called home with new eyes. He grits his teeth as he can still see the stains of betrayal on the ground, the blackness from his dead brothers and sisters' wings.

He did this.

Gabriel, shoves him lightly with his shoulder, and Castiel turns inquisitively. "Hmm?"

Gabriel smiles, putting his index finger to his lips and then lightly pressing Castiel to his knees. Castiel goes without protest as he realizes all the rest of his siblings are there, too. Michael, Luc, and Raphael all stand in front of them, hands clasped in front them and there are no words spoken as Gabriel falls in next to Raphael. The dark-skinned archangel leans over and whispers to Gabriel, but Castiel is far enough away that not even the faint sound of the whispers reach his ears.

There is no movement for several agonizing seconds. It hits Castiel that he is about to see his father for the first time in memory, and he feels his palms start to sweat.

Chuck Shurley, the wayward author of the Winchester stories, steps around the archangels, looking a bit uncomfortable. He looks them over, but Castiel is too busy being shocked that he actually did meet his father, once, that he had looked at Castiel with reassurance and hope, and that he hadn't cared that Castiel was Falling. As a result, he doesn't tune back in until the man hands down his sentence for Metatron.

"Take his grace, Raphael," he commands, voice steady despite the order. Metatron winces visibly from where he is on his knees directly in front of their father.

"Please-"

"No," Chuck says, quietly. "You've killed how many angels?"

Metatron falls silent.

"And, you tried to kill the only angel willing to learn from his mistakes. Who tried to right his wrongs."

Castiel glances up through his eyelashes, heart in his throat.

"Castiel?"

He looks up to find Chuck- God- staring at him. He beckons, and as if he's in a trance, Castiel stands and moves toward his father, hesitant.

Raphael slits Metatron's throat with the lightest of brushes of his archangel blade, and Metatron slumps forward, eyes wet with defeat. He can hardly hope to best the Archangel of Healing, who could only be beat quickly and without hesitance, the way Castiel had beat him, once.

Chuck pulls a blade from behind him and runs him through.

Raphael holds the grace in his hands. He gives it to Chuck when he asks for it in quiet words.

He lets the white light flow over the blade and Raphael sucks in a sharp, alarmed breath. Castiel glances at his brother, just as Chuck imbeds the grace-laced blade into Castiel's abdomen.

Castiel chokes.

And six dark blue and purple wings, glittering like the night sky, expand behind him with a rush. Castiel can feel the power.

"Castiel, Archangel of Temperance."

...

3\. _What if I Told You?_

The wings of the angels shuffle uncomfortably behind him. "Fall in, Castiel," Chuck breathes, and Castel scrambles to stand next to Gabriel, his heart pounding in shock. His wound had healed, and his grace is restored, and. He has never felt like this. "My children," Chuck announces loudly, and all angels lift their heads, "Treat all five archangels with the respect that I treat them with. Good luck. And Michael?" Chuck questions, his voice low and steady now.

Michael straightens. "Yes, Father?"

"Try not to fight with Luciel."

Luc snickers, and Chuck's gaze swerves to him. "Luciel?"

"Father?"

"Try not to fight with Michael, or with anyone else. I _do not_ want an apocalypse."

Both archangels shift their feet, looking resigned. "Yes, Father," they chorus.

"Castiel?" Chuck turns now, and faces his new archangel, who straightens to attention.

"Father."

"Take care of those boys. The Winchesters. They're important, and not as vessels. As the archangel of temperance, I expect their tempers to curve. I want them ready."

Castiel nods, then frowns. "Ready for what?"

Chuck smiles. Then he vanishes.

...

Dean leaps a foot into the air when Castiel reappears. "Good lord, Cas-"

"He made me an archangel!"

"He- what?" Dean splutters, his rant coming to a fizzled end as he stares. Sam's mouth drops open in his shock.

"An archangel, Dean," Cas repeats, and his smile is so bright, directed at his older brother, that Sam can hardly bear to look without feeling like he's intruding on something.

"Wh- that's fantastic, Cas!" Dean grins, exuberant. "So you're up to full power and more, huh? You feel okay?"

"Never better," And yup, there's the eye-fucking. Sam sighs inwardly.

"That's fantastic news, Cas," Sam says warmly, trying to ignore the love-struck look that fizzles off Castiel's face as he turns to look at him.

Castiel nods, "Yes. I was quite shocked. Even the other archangels were."

"Damn right we were," a voice agrees, and Sam jumps a little while Dean swings around, hands on his gun, and Castiel smiles over Dean's shoulder. "It was a bit unprecedented, Cassie," Gabriel finishes, winking at Sam.

He feels the blood flood to his cheeks as he remembers. _I've missed you, Sam. It's been years for you, I can't imagine..._

Their fingers were intertwined behind their backs.

"Yes, I suppose so," Castiel agrees.

"There's one good thing for me here," Gabriel grins, and he laughs, "I'm not the youngest archangel anymore!"

Castiel nods slowly, unsure. "Indeed not."

Gabriel sees the confusion on his little brother's face, and a look of recognition crosses his face. "Ah, but you're the youngest regardless of archangel status," he realizes.

"Really?" Dean asks, and Castiel nods again, swiftly.

"Yes. Being 'young' is nothing new to me," he reveals, air quotes and all. Sam grins to himself as Dean gets his "Cas is being adorable again" look.

"So, Cas," Sam says, as a question forms in his mind. "Every archangel is the Archangel of Something; Gabriel, Archangel of Justice, Raphael, Archangel of Healing, for instance. What about you?"

Castiel turns at Sam's question. He states, "Temperance."

Sam snorts. "Of course you are."

Gabriel lets out a startled laugh, and Dean frowns as Castiel gets his patented "Stupid humans" look on his face. "Why is that funny?" Castiel mutters, sounding hurt.

"Oh, Cassie, it's not a bad thing," Gabriel reassures, hiccupping through his laughter. "It's just ironic and I hadn't thought much of it when you were first Named."

"Why is it ironic?" Castiel demands next, sounding somewhat angry now, and Sam feels himself pull away. There it is; the raw, uncontrolled, new power of a fresh archangel, and Gabriel rushes to sooth him.

"Oh, never mind, Cas, forget I said anything... You need to figure out those new wings of yours, come on," He changes the subject, and with one last look at Sam, Gabriel gets himself and his brother out of the room without a sound.

...

"Missed this, missed you..." Sam breathes, tilting his head back to let Gabriel lick and kiss his way from his collarbone to his lips.

"Mhm," Gabriel hums, finding Sam's lips again and feeling a rush of heat run through his body. He presses their lips together again before pulling away. "I'm still sorry," he mutters, breathing in Sam's air even though he doesn't have to.

Sam presses his forehead against his and cups his cheek. Gabriel finds himself leaning into the warm touch. "If you apologize for saving us one more time, I swear-"

He laughs. "I know, I know." _I just can't help it._

Sam kisses him again, pressing him against the wall a little harder. Gabriel pulls Sam closer in turn, thinking back to the first time he did this, dressed as a fucking janitor at a college, then-

Sam does this thing with his hips and Gabriel's brain short circuits abruptly. He hums appreciatively.

"Oi!"

Well. Talk about unwelcome.

He pulls back just enough to see Dean and Castiel standing at the end of the hall, Dean looking uncomfortable and furious. Castiel, as ever, seems unconcerned with finding them in this position.

"'Oi', yourself, short stack," Gabriel says, vaguely mortified but mostly irritated. If it had just been Dean that would have been a welcome invitation to just keep going but he doesn't want to see his brother in the corner of his eye while kissing his boyfriend. He steps back, just enough to still feel the heat of Sam's body but with a good inch between them.

Dean splutters. "Look who's talking, you arrogant... short stack."

That fizzled quickly and Gabriel snorts. "We need to work on your comebacks. There are a million better ones for that insult alone," he laughs, and laughs even harder when Dean goes bright red.

"Oh, be nice," Sam scolds lightly, pulling Gabriel against his side with an arm around his shoulders.

Gabriel remembers why he likes tall guys.

In the brief silence that follows afterward, Dean opens his mouth to speak but Hannah, a younger angel that Gabriel vaguely recalls as being overly picky, pokes her head around the corner. She takes in the scene before her and locates Castiel.

"Sir, if I could have a moment?" she inquires.

Castiel looks at her, seemingly absorbing the question before he nods. "Yes." He turns, facing the whole group but mostly focusing on Dean, of course, and says, "I'll be back."

He follows his second-in-command.

...

The other angels are waiting for him when he returns, and he can sense the change in the air as soon as he steps into the room.

He wonders, fleetingly, if part of making Castiel an archangel meant to serve not just as a reward, but also as a punishment, separating him from his peers and sending him into a group of elites, who, without Gabriel, would be unwelcoming.

He sees their awe and their reverence, and decides that his father has ulterior motives for everything.

Hannah gets his attention back by prompting, "Sir?"

He nods at her, "Yes, continue," he says, and then. When did leading these angels get so difficult?

"I know, technically, that with God and archangels back into play that this, ah, group isn't strictly necessary, but, our radar here picked up a huge amount of power in Oklahoma..."

He looks. The red dots begin to spread.

Then the alarms go off.

...

She walks with purpose. Her red high heels click on the floor of the bar and as soon as she takes a seat, a man slides up next to her and tugs a lock of her hair. "Hey there, beautiful. Name's James," he introduces, and she smiles, amused.

Still. "Rene," she says back, leaning into him, and watching him swallow heavily at the sight of her cleavage in her dress.

"Well, Rene," he mutters, "What do you say we get out of here?"

She agrees.

And when they're at a red light, she lets her power slam the gas instead of the break, and he screams while she smiles and gets out of the car. Her image flickers and he dies instantly. It's a six-car accident.

...

4\. _And the Sense of Guilt I Can't Deny_

When the angels disperse, he goes to Minnesota. It's the easiest decision he's ever made.

Adam jumps when he appears, and he's angry.

"What the hell happened? One minute, I was with you in that blasted Cage- I don't remember anything else- not for, oh, apparently, five years! My house is gone, I wake up in a blasted cemetery with $1000 and nothing to my name-" Michael reaches for him and kisses the boy silent.

Adam is more than willing to change the subject, hesitantly laying his hands on Michael and they are making out, very suddenly, against some poor bastard's car in a Wal-Mart parking lot and neither of them even care.

"Mhm," Adam hums as they pull apart, cheek to cheek. "Seriously, though. What the hell?"

"My father restored us both," Michael says, enjoying holding this boy in his arms for now. It's new. And he's happy here.

Adam, however, is actually paying some attention to that, and pulls away. "Your father?"

He seems alarmed, Michael notes. "Mm, yes. He restored Lucifer and I to the height of our power, brought back Raphael and Gabriel, and then promoted Castiel to an archangel and left."

"What?"

"He stopped the civil war," Michael says, trying to get back on track with short kisses to Adam's face.

Adam laughs, indulgently. "Damn it, Micah," he says, "I'm trying to figure out what's going on here-"

"You're alive, I'm alive, out of the Cage, heaven restored, and we're making out in a parking lot not far from your old house- what is there to figure out?" he demands, nuzzling Adam's neck.

"Just- mm, why?"

Michael pulls away, now. "Why?" he repeats, _please don't be like that_ -

"Why save me?" Adam mutters, sounding as self-loathing as his stupid, ridiculous brothers and Michael thinks- _it must run in the Winchester line_.

"Because-"

"What are you faggots doing?" A rude voice interrupts, and Michael and Adam both turn to face the red-faced man, keys and Wal-Mart bags in hand, looking really pissed.

"Ah, I'm sorry, sir," Adam begins, shoving Michael away roughly, causing the archangel to stumble slightly, "We just-"

The man interrupts, "The question was rhetorical, cock-sucker," he says cruelly, and Michael can see it before Adam does, the hand with the keys in it moving to strike Adam, and Michael- Michael just _reacts_.

The feathers in his wings harden, the soft edges sharpening like razor blades. He lets two of them go, one through the man's hand and the other into the front tire of the car.

The man's head snaps to Michael, and he looks terrified as he howls in pain, blood dripping down his hand. He drops his bags and eggs crack and shatter on the ground, and the keys drop like stones.

Michael steps close to the man, who backs into the car, nervously. He crosses his uninjured hand over his chest in prayer, and Michael hears the man's voice like a whisper- "Save me now, I beg."- and Michael shakes his head.

"Prayers won't help," he says, and the man spits in his face.

"Maybe not you, it won't, sinners-" he snarls, still defiant, and so Michael lets loose just enough grace to make his eyes glow iridescent blue.

"Prejudice is a sin," Michael declares softly, and he knows from the widening of the man's eyes that he realizes.

"Oh, God," he whispers, and his eyes close. Michael steps back, satisfied.

He waves his hand over the eggs and they reform, and Michael leans down to pick up the bag. He hands it to the man. "What-"

"Leave the car," Michael interrupts, "And leave."

He doesn't know that he's ever seen a human run so fast.

Michael picks up the keys, pulls his feather out of the car's tire, and hands both to Adam. "Now you have a car," he says cheerfully, and Adam laughs, tears in his eyes.

"You idiot," he sniffs, taking the softened feather and the keys, unlocking the car.

...

Castiel feels a thrum of alarm. He doesn't recognize this.

"Sir?" Hannah asks.

"Send a group to investigate. If it's bad, minimalize our casualties, but help anyone you can, first, and avoid engagement," he instructs, and oh, man. She salutes, respect and more of that awe that he remembers always being directed at the archangels when he saw them, and, yes, more certainly God meant this as part of his punishment.

Gabriel has followed, of course, and he lays a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "It gets easier to see," he mutters. "But nice job handling that, too."

"Thank you, brother," he breathes, relieved that he did something right for once.

The angels settled, Gabriel gives Castiel a mocking salute, too, and then wanders off. An angel flags his attention, and Castiel looks away.

Dean is waiting in the doorway, leaning against the wall, nonchalant. Castiel walks over.

"Everything okay?" Dean questions, searching.

"Something came up on the radar," Castiel says. "I sent a team to look at it, and help anyone who might need it."

"Sounds good, Cas," Dean praises, and Castiel preens, his wings ruffling as they always do when Dean says things like that.

Castiel is no stranger to such signals. He's seen them with Hannah's wings, and he knows that she's aware he has no desire to reciprocate. He's seen it with Gabriel when he looks at Sam, even when Sam screams and yells that he hates him.

He only saw that twice. Gabriel has the ability to manipulate time and space, creating minor things and rewinding moments and changing them. It makes him an impossible opponent for any lesser being.

Gabriel relives those moments more often than Castiel ever wants him to. Those days, Gabriel is oblivious to the world. Sam has never noticed.

It makes Castiel hate him, just a little.

"Cas? You still with me?"

He refocuses onto Dean. "Yes?" he says, not sure himself.

Dean huffs a laugh, repeating, "Want to get a burger and a beer? I'm starving and this is not exactly a joint that caters to humans and their needs, ya know."

Cas blinks, "You know I do not need-"

"-Food or drink, yeah, Cas, I know. Would it kill you to not point that out every time I mention wanting to hang out with you?" Dean is still laughing quietly, affection in his gaze, and so Castiel knows he isn't angry.

"Probably not," Castiel acquiesces with a short bow of his head and shoulders.

Dean rolls his eyes and slaps a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, then," he urges Castiel away.

His subordinates don't even blink. And if his hand links with Dean's on their way out the door for the briefest of moments, well. It's not their business.

...

"They're so emotionally constipated it physically hurts me even from here," Gabriel jokes, and Sam feels himself grinning.

"You have no idea," Sam agrees.

Gabriel's phone starts ringing, and he pulls it out, looking confused. "There are three people that would be calling me," he says, "and two of them just left hand-in-hand and the other is sitting next to me."

Sam's eyebrows go up. "Then what-"

Gabriel hushes him and hits the "Answer" button. "Gabriel's whore house, how can we service you today?" he asks, and Sam snickers, pulling in a laughing gasp. Gabriel winks at him, a big smile on his face.

It slips off quickly as he listens to the person he's talking to.

"Yes? He's here, with me, yeah... No, no, I don't- Yeah, I get it, okay? Whatever."

He hands the phone to Sam and walks off in a huff. Sam stares off after him, a question on his lips, but the he remembers the phone and brings it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Sam?" a vaguely familiar voice questions.

"Yeah," he agrees.

"It's Adam. I'm told I'm your brother?" It's a question. Sam sucks in a sharp breath.

"Oh, God, Adam, I- I'm so sorry," he says, and it will never be enough. Never.

"Never mind," Adam says. "I, ah. I'm also told you have someplace to live."

"What's mine is yours, Adam," Sam assures. "Yeah, it's in Lebanon, Kansas," he says. "Do you need me to come get you? I can be wherever you are in less than a week, depending on where you are," he adds, patting his pockets for his keys.

"No, no, I have a car," Adam says. "I woke up in a cemetery with a thousand bucks and Michael showed up and stole it for me." Laughter. Sam pauses.

"He- what?"

"Michael the Archangel stole me a car," Adam repeats, and he's laughing, "It's just such a ridiculous sentence. I can't believe it, and I'm driving it now."

"Ah, yeah. That, ah. That is absolutely... I'd believe it easier if you told me Gabriel or Lucifer did it, but Michael? Geez."

"Right?"

A brief silence, and then Sam says, "You know what, Adam? I'll let you drive, and I'll text you the address and I'll meet you there."

"Um, yeah. That sounds good, Sam," Adam replies. "I'll be there soon. Bye."

The phone clicks after Sam says good-bye as well, and he stares at it for a moment.

He never says good-bye over the phone.

...

Dean and Castiel return about four hours after the phone call. Sam fills him in and Dean's eyes grow wide, and Castiel rests a hand on Dean's shoulder, soothing the hurt.

Dean walks away. He gets in the Impala and drives back to the bunker, parking in the garage and then wandering downstairs, into his bedroom. He sits on the bed and toes off his shoes, leaning back to stare at the ceiling.

Shame, hot and liquid, creeps through him like poison, and Dean fights back the tears that want to fall.

He had promised, a hundred, hundred times to protect Sammy. He would always protect his baby brother, but he'd failed. A thousand times, he failed to protect Sammy, but he's always pulled him out of the fire.

Not only did he fail Adam, but he left him there, burning.

Nothing in the world, this one or the next, will ever be enough to fix it.

Castiel flutters into the room and sits next to Dean, who buries his face into the archangel's hip. Cas runs his fingers through Dean's hair and hums a tune he doesn't recognize, but is soothing.

Dean presses a kiss to the exposed skin between Cas' shirt and his pant line, closing his eyes.

...

5\. _How About We Make Up Without a Fight_

Raphael watches, silent and completely ignoring him.

Luc rolls his eyes and pokes his younger brother's shoulder again. "Com'on, Ralphy-" he whines, and suddenly, yup, that's it.

Raphael snaps. "Will you shut up? We're supposed to be guarding heaven, not going to Earth and 'mingling'." Luc can practically _hear_ the air quotes, and it's a delight, "with _humans_."

Luc shrugs, redirecting his attention to his brothers and sisters, who work with a nervous tick, glancing up at them from their perches above the "sky" of heaven every few seconds. His lips twitch. "Oh, Raphael, I agree completely with your sentiments. However, nothing is getting done with our stalking-" Raphael bristles- "and I figured out that humans are good for something, at least, and that is for having a good time. Humans know a multitude of ways for having fun, and sex and beer is the top of that list. Com'on," he goads, "Let's go have some brotherly bonding time..."

"No," Raphael says, firmly, and Luc pouts.

"I forgot how far the sticks were shoved up the collective asses of most angels. Gabriel and Cassie are the only fun ones around here-"

"Oh, _shut up_!" Raphael shouts, and every angel winces from below them. Luc howls with laughter.

Raphael storms off in a snit, his white hot blue-gold wings, like lightning, bristling in his fury, and Luc is still laughing.

"He is still the easiest angel to mess with," Luc tells his other siblings. "He's the worst of you lot."

A brave angel speaks up. "I thought you would have said Michael would be the worst..."

Luc grins, and opens his wings to land in front of him. "...Jade, yes?" he checks, and the his brother nods. "Yeah, I've spent a lot of time with good old Mickey and his human for quite a long time down in hell, and he's loosened up a lot," he confines, leaning forward with raised eyebrows and fingertips pressed together.

"That's a good thing, yes?" Jade checks, and Luc nods.

"Oh, yes." He looks around at the work station Jade's dealing with, and then nods decisively. He snaps the work done and hooks their arms together. "What do you say about joining me downstairs?" he asks, and Jade smiles, hesitant and nervous.

Hm. He'll have to fix that, Luc muses, and snaps them out of heaven.

...

Her next victim is an easy target. A mousy little thing, she thinks, trailing her finger over the rim of her drink. Her nails clink on the glass and so she stands. "Hello, sweetheart," she greets, sliding into the other side of the booth.

Mousy girl looks up, eyes wide. "Um," she says, caught off guard.

"Oh, don't worry, I won't hurt you," she assures. "Rhiannon," she says, holding out her hand.

The girl smiles slightly and shakes her hand, "Claire," she says. She smiles at her.

"You want to get out of here, Claire?" she asks, and Claire suddenly looks very nervous.

"Um," she says again.

So she waves the question away. "Or not, we don't have to. How about your number and a drink?" she says instead.

So she won't die in a car accident. No matter. All this means is that she has to change her plans a little.

...

The car is a blue Toyota pick-up, and Sam watches it from the window of the garage with detached curiosity. The man behind the wheel looks at what he assumes is a phone, before shrugging and pulling over to the side of the road.

Adam steps out of the driver's seat. Sam jolts a bit, and walks to the door, pressing the button that will open the garage.

Both Adam and the dark-haired figure swing to look at the garage, which they clearly hadn't seen before.

Sam steps out into the sunlight, wiping his forehead with the rag at his belt, waving at Adam with the hand that's holding a wrench. Adam and his friend walk over.

"Hey," Sam greets, and tugs them both inside.

Gabriel gives Sam a nod when he spots them. "All clean, Sam-a-lam," he says cheerfully, "Hiya, Michael," he says next, waving at the dark-haired man, who furrows his brows and nods back.

"Brother," he acknowledges. Then Michael returns his gaze to Sam, defensively shielding Adam with his shoulder.

Adam brushes him away. "For goodness' sake, Micah, cool it."

Sam exchanges a look with Gabriel, who shrugs.

Together, the four of them make their way downstairs, after Sam put his shirt back on at Gabriel's insistence- _I don't want my brother seeing you, babe, considering archangels seem to be weak for Winchesters_. That made Sam laugh harder than he should have.

Gabriel always seems to be able to make him laugh.

...

Dean's cooking, and he glances up when the door swings open. "Guess who," Sam says, and Gabriel walks through, but considering he'd gone out there with Sam three hours ago, that can't...

Adam and the man Dean recognizes immediately to be Michael walk through the door next, and the knife falls from his hands onto the cutting board in his surprise. "Fuck," he says loudly, turning for the paper towels because the blade nicked his finger.

"Ah, sorry..." he calls, as the four walk downstairs.

Sam glares at him reproachfully. "Can't handle a knife, Dean? What kind of hunter are you?" he jokes.

Dean rolls his eyes. "A better one than you'll ever be, bitch," he fires back, running his finger under water.

"Evidently not, jerk," Sam returns with a bitch face.

Adam looks around. "So you live here?" he cuts in, and both his older brothers focus on him. Michael and Gabriel settle on the couch, with Gabriel spreading himself over it, his feet in Michael's lap, much to the other's displeasure.

"Yeah," Dean says. "Our inheritance. Yours too, I guess," he adds. He turns to the onion he was cutting and restarts.

"Inheritance?" Adam repeats, confused.

Dean glances up and lifts the cutting board to scrap the onion into the pan on the stove, which sizzles as soon as they're added. "Yeah," Sam says. "This is the Men of Letters bunker, and our grandfather- John's father- was a Man of Letters. Therefore, we got it all when they were wiped out in the 50s."

"Wild," Adam says. He walks over to a bookshelf and pulls something down, leafing through it. "Do you guys use these books?"

"They're amazingly useful for hunting," Dean replies, stirring the food. "Lots of good info you just can't get anywhere except from experience, and since the Men of Letters were librarians as much as hunters, they documented everything they ever encountered."

Adam shakes his head in wonder. "You guys lead the wackiest lives I've ever seen," he mutters. Dean and Sam roll their eyes.

"Your life, too, if you feel like it," Sam offers. "But once you're in, that's it. No getting out."

"Dude, I made out with Michael the Archangel on the side of a car in the Wal-Mart parking lot yesterday, I think I'm pretty much stuck with doing this, too."

Dean chokes. "Okay, okay, stop, stop, stop. Way too much information, dude."

Adam laughs at Dean's expense.

...

"My baby brother is a nightmare," Dean says later, falling onto the bed next to Cas, who cards his fingers through Dean's hair and hums a little.

"Which one?"

"You pick," Dean mutters, wrapping his arm around Cas' waist. "They're both assholes."

"Must run in the family," Cas jokes, and Dean swats him.

"Shut it."

They fall silent. "Hey," Dean mutters, drawing absent pictures onto Cas' skin while drifting in and out of consciousness slowly. "You ever hear from that search and rescue team?"

"Not yet," Cas says, sounding frustrated. "Hannah is going to give them another week though, since it technically has only been three days. But that had been an alarming find, and I don't know what to make of it. Gabriel says I'm not ready to fight yet, that I am more likely to wipe out the population in the area than be of any help."

Dean snorts. "That's archangel power for you, babe."

They both look toward the door when the sound of yelling breaks out.

"The hell?" Dean mutters, pushing himself up. Cas lets his hand fall to his side as he stands, quickly flying to his room just as the door swings open. A confused looking Sam stands in the doorway.

"Dean, keep note not to put two archangels in the same room unless it's Gabe and Cas," he says quickly. "Adam is trying to calm Michael down, but the guy doesn't have a sense of humor and so is trying to kill Gabe."

Dean would gladly let them go at it if this weren't his home and the fact that, technically, Gabriel and Michael are both guests here.

His lips thin and he gets up. "Damn it."

Sam takes off and Cas pops back in. "I will try to help," Cas says seriously.

Dean measures him slowly. "No angel power, I don't want to be obliterated yet."

Cas nods.

Together, they walk into the disaster room, where Gabriel has Michael in a chokehold on the ground and the tables are turned over with shattered glass from the lamps, and the books are torn if they were on the table, too. Adam is yelling, tugging at Gabriel, but the kid is only human and untrained to boot, so doesn't have much strength behind him.

Cas steps forward and tugs Gabriel away, leaving Michael gasping, his wings fluttering in vague shadows on the ground. Six of them. It's daunting.

"Sick, son of a bitch, how dare you, Michael...!" Cas tugs Gabriel away, in the direction of Sam's bedroom, which Dean tries hard not to think about.

Adam pulls Michael to his feet and kisses him quickly, then staring uncomfortably at Dean. "Look, man I'm sorry," Adam starts.

Dean cuts him off. "Not your fault," he says. "You're not the one who got into a fight with his brother and broke my table," he aims this at Michael, who waves his hand and cleans the mess.

Dean eyes him mistrustfully. "You can do the dishes every night for the next week, Michael," he decides, and Adam snorts in amusement.

"Excuse me?" Michael demands.

"Naw, you want to live here," Dean counters, "You work. And when you screw up, you work double. A speck of dirt on your _hand-washed_ dishes, I'll tan your hide, and I don't care that you're a big archangel. I've done it to Gabriel, I ain't afraid of _you_."

Michael gapes at him and Adam laughs, while Dean walks away.

...

6\. _Lost on the Yellow Brick Road_

"Next," he drones, bored beyond belief.

He signs some meaningless paper with a blood ink pen and sends the demon away.

Above him, the Cage rattles loudly and the ceiling creaks alarmingly. He eyes it nervously, but aside from the flash of wings, there is no more movement.

Not a sound.

The lack of muted scrambling above the courtroom makes hell seem empty. It is... unsettling.

He picks up the phone after a week and the phone keeps ringing in his ear. It rings and when it stops, Dean Winchester's voicemail echoes in his eardrums. He redials and taps his foot impatiently.

"What?" Dean snaps when he picks up. "It's 2.54 in the morning, so you'd better have a damn good reason for waking me up, you asshole."

"Why, hello and good morning to you, too, darling," he greets.

"Fuck off," Dean says, exhausted, and he can practically see Dean move to hang up the phone. So he interrupts.

"The Cage has stopped all noise, Squirrel," he informs, and Dean snorts.

"No, really? It took you a week to figure out that all three occupants in the cage are back on Earth and that God has returned? Bit slow on the uptake, Crowley," Dean drawls. Then the phone clicks.

Crowley redials, and redials, to no avail.

...

Claire dies behind that dark gay bar and she steps over the body and promptly gets a bag stuffed over her head. "What-"

"Silence, bitch," a gravelly voice says, and then her air supply runs out.

...

Jade watches Luc from across the bar, nursing his drink.

Luc is currently pinning some human girl against the wall near the bathrooms, kissing her and kissing her and she doesn't seem to mind. She hooks a leg over his hip and Jade looks away.

"Your girlfriend?" the bartender enquires, sounding sympathetic. Jade snorts.

"Hardly. He is my older brother. I disapprove of his... engagement."

The bartender laughs a little, pouring whiskey into a shot glass and handing it to Jade. "On the house, then, and here's to bad choices," he explains, pouring himself a shot, too.

Jade nods to him and downs it.

"Jade," someone says, and he turns to find Luc handing him a black card. "Go wild. Endless money, thank you, Father," Luc slurs. "I'll call you in the morning."

"You're rich?" The bartender checks. Jade nods, slowly, eyeing the glass in his hand and staring through the kaleidoscope of colors.

"Something like that," Jade says.

"Tim is my name," The bartender- Tim, apparently- introduces himself. "Want to follow your brother's example and leave? My shift is over in ten and both of us are sober, meaning we'll remember it, unlike your brother."

Jade considers. Appraising the man, he shrugs. "Why not?" he says. This is what he came for, anyway.

Behind them, a woman's eyes turn black, and she follows Luc to the side of the road, where he and his girl are standing, kissing, on the side of a lamppost. She eyes the white wings behind the Devil, how they ruffle and move with the wind, but not at all out of pure desire for the girl he's kissing. Just carnal.

She'll leave a phone number and he will ignore it. It's exactly how she remembers her former king.

As it stands, she evaporates downstairs to report back to Crowley, to the king who is a million times more competent than Luc ever was. Probably because Crowley is actually a demon, too.

...

Raphael locates Michael with some difficulty. He's shielded, which is unusual.

Still, it's an impressive base for the Winchesters, and he finds himself humming in approval as he glances through the doors at the wards all over the walls. They can easily stay hidden here.

Michael walks out the front door and stands in front of him. "Yes, brother?" he asks, seemingly bored already. Raphael frowns inwardly.

"Lucifer has left, and he took Jade with him. I have not been able to find either of them," he says.

The other archangel frowns slightly. "And the rest of heaven?" he asks.

"Frightened, for some reason, of me. They are working hard to repair and restore the damage caused by the civil war, but production slows in my presence. It is hard to connect with them the way I used to."

Michael nods. He seems to understand, which helps to assuage some of Raphael's worry. "In the time we have been gone, many of them acquired more... human traits. Especially those who integrated themselves into human lives, ignoring the war entirely. The more I interact with Castiel and Gabriel, the more I understand, and being around the Winchesters furthers that understanding to become an application of my new knowledge. I, myself, find that I respond to things more and more as if I were human. Many of our brothers and sisters, if not all of them, have to get used to heaven again.

"I suggest loosening the reins, brother."

Raphael gapes at him. Michael doesn't seem to care too much. "Is that all, Raphael? Or do I need to return to heaven for some reason? Can I entrust it to you for now?"

"Ah, yes," Raphael mutters. "Yes, I will be fine. It will be done, Michael."

Michael bows his head. "Excellent."

He shuts the door behind him and Raphael feels as though he is missing something important.

...

Hannah contacts him.

The message is brief. _Word from search team. Need you here, sir._ Castiel leaves immediately with protests from Dean following him.

The place is more vacant now. Many of his followers returned to heaven after the war came to an abrupt end, but a select few remained to help Castiel with his work on Earth.

Hannah meets him at the door, walking with him to the radar scanner, where an angel named Wesley stands and then sits again to fiddle with the grace-powered machine.

The search team is all there, unharmed and all accounted for. It is both comforting and confusing.

"Sir," one of them begins, "We searched the whole area, questioned many people, but the area itself seems unaffected."

Hannah steps in, here, to say, "We checked the machine before we contacted you, Castiel, and there is nothing wrong with it. Something is there, but we can't find it."

Castiel leans over the machine. The red dots cover most of Oklahoma now, a vicious looking spread of _something_ that shouldn't exist. Castiel leans back.

"I will talk with the other archangels and see what they think," he says, and Hannah nods, looking relieved, again, that he has a sense of direction. He thinks that she's as afraid as he is that he'll lose the faith of his angels.

It is insulting.

Still, he's grateful that she's supportive, at least.

"For now," he says, "Just hold the base. Anything that happens, call me."

And he spreads his wings and takes off, back to the bunker.

...

Michael is standing there, Adam next to him, with Dean supervising, doing the dishes.

Or at least trying to.

Gabriel exchanges a glance with Castiel, amused. Their oldest brother is having quite the time with Dean's punishment, and with Dean standing right there, Michael won't try to do them with his grace.

Dean is laughing quietly to himself, and Adam has a fond smile on his lips, guiding Michael through it.

"This isn't hard, Micah," Adam assures. "Just use the sponge on the dishes- don't forget the Dawn, Micah- and make sure every spec of dirt gets off them. Then you put them in the rack, here, and-"

Gabriel tunes him out. Castiel nudges him with an elbow and when their eyes meet, Castiel jerks his head in the direction of the library. Gabriel follows without question.

"I'm not sure what to do, here," Castiel confesses. His shoulders fall, and his eyes are on the floor. "They have so much faith in me just because Father decided to give me a bit of power..."

Gabriel remembers teaching Castiel to fly. He'd been a nervous wreck then, too. It looks like some things just don't change.

Comforting, but he still would have liked to see Castiel grow into his wings.

"What's going on, Cassie?"

Castiel says, "Hannah contacted me and everything is fine. But the radar says it isn't and I'm not sure what to do about it. I hate saying to wait but-"

"Sometimes waiting is the only thing you can do, kiddo," Gabriel says sympathetically.

Castiel looks discouraged by this response, and Gabriel wishes he could fix it.

Castiel is his favorite brother.

...

7\. _Like Fireflies in the Rain_

"Jade, you're pretty awesome, you know that?"

Jade flushes, but keeps on walking. His readjusts the archangel sack he's carrying over his shoulder at the crosswalk so he doesn't drop him in front of a car or something.

"Jaaadddeeee," Luc sings, impossibly drunk. Jade had no idea it was possible for angels to get so- out of sorts. It's annoying.

The hotel is another block away; he can see it now.

Checking in is a bit awkward, with the lady behind the desk eyeing Luc wearily as he does his best to wake the entire city with his horribly off-tune singing.

Jade remembers that archangels are generally very good singers; it's part of what made them powerful, that they could lull enemies to sleep with song.

He wonders what Luc is playing at.

The elevator is punctuated with humming, and while Jade can't say he cares, really, he wishes Luc would pick a different tune, already. His girl had been singing that song when Jade picked Luc up from her trashy apartment early this morning.

It has taken them an hour to get to this hotel.

Jade takes care to rest Luc on the bed, and when he moves away, Luc grips tightly to his arm. "Stay," Luc whispers, sounding actually coherent. And. He can't disobey an order from an archangel.

So he lies down next to the Devil and stares at the ceiling while Luc curls into his side.

...

She splutters as soon as the bag is removed from her head, and blows a lock of blood red hair from her face. Hmm. They struck her hard enough for her to bleed. They'll regret that.

"Rebecca," a vaguely familiar voice intones, and she looks around.

She hasn't been called that in many, many years.

The room is too dark to make anything out, and she's tied to a chair with powerful binding charms, and so she knows that until her captor deems fit, she won't be seeing anything they don't want her to.

She snarls in rage, face twisting.

"Come now, sister dear," he says, and steps into the light, blond hair catching the moon the way her mother's did. "Let's have a chat, shall we?"

Brandon. Her heart clenches. Whether from fear or from grief she isn't sure-

After all, he was always the better witch.

...

While Michael was stuck doing dishes, Gabriel was banished outside, arranging the plants and vines to make the bunker look as uninhabited as possible, but because Michael started it, Dean said he could use his grace and then sent Sam to watch him.

Needless to say, it wasn't much of a punishment and he and Sam have been lounging on fresh greenery for over three hours now.

They've been naming clouds and putting shapes to them for a while. Gabriel reaches to the sky and vaguely forms Sam's name in the puffy white smoke, and then turns to find Sam staring at him instead of the clouds.

"You're adorable," Sam whispers, barely a breath, and evidently not wanting to be heard. But Gabriel hears better than every animal on Earth, and so flushes a bright pink against his will. Sam turns the same color a second later and looks back at the sky.

"Hey, you don't get to say something like that and then not kiss me at least," Gabriel objects.

He sits up and swings a leg over Sam, straddling him. He bends down for his kiss and Sam tangles his fingers into his hair.

The door swings open. "Gabriel? Sam?"

It's Michael. Gabriel groans softly into Sam's mouth and then pulls away just far enough to yell, "Not here!" and then he seals his lips with Sam's again.

A flutter, and Michael is standing next to them, and Sam jerks away like he's been burned.

"What do you want?" Gabriel demands. "I'm busy."

Michael eyes them for a second, face unreadable. Then, "Dean said he knew you'd be doing this. He said to tell you dinner is ready."

"What are you, some kind of dog? Last I checked, you're not one to follow the orders of _humans_ -"

"Adam likes him well enough and begged me not to fight with him."

Michael's gone.

Gabriel groans loudly and buries his face into Sam's collarbone, inhaling the scent he found there.

Sam squirms. "Stop it, that tickles," he says. Gabriel can _hear_ the regret in the air the minute the words escape- the kind of regret that can only come with being a sibling- and he laughs to himself. Then he huffs down Sam's shirt and Sam _shrieks_.

After that, they're wrestling on the grass, and Sam's yelling at Gabriel to knock it off, but he's laughing and he doesn't remember having this much fun in years.

"Knock it off and get your sorry asses down here or I'll throw your food down the sink!" Dean shouts, and Gabriel laughs harder from underneath Sam.

The door slams.

Sam kisses him quickly and stands, face red and happy. "Com'on, before grumpy down there has a heart attack," he says.

"He needs to get laid," Gabriel says solemnly, and Sam laughs all the way down the stairs.

...

Dean's not so emotionally stunted that he's unaware that what he and Cas are doing is something a bit more than friendship. Friends don't generally share a bed or kiss each other's shoulders in the darkness that comes after dusk and before dawn.

Still. Cas hasn't said anything about actually kissing him for real, and so Dean's not gonna push. This is more domestic and long-term than he ever thought he would get, anyway, so.

So, he's not completely focused on what Cas and Adam are saying down the hall. And he's not eavesdropping. Not at all.

"-hard to reach."

"I can see that," Adam says.

"How did you and Michael do it? In the Cage?"

Adam shrugs. "A lot of Sam's torture was self-inflicted. He sat in the middle of the Cage and the three of us- Michael, Lucifer, and I, all kind of watched. And then he was gone and I just let Michael do what he wanted. Sometimes they'd fight, but mostly it was very boring and very cold. Michael made me a dream-world so I wouldn't get the full effects of my surroundings and I fell in love with him a little bit at a time. It was almost heaven."

"I would not say that," Michael says, opening the door that leads to his and Adam's bedroom. "Heaven is a lot nicer."

Adam shrugs. "I remember more of the Cage than I do of heaven."

Michael wrinkles his nose. He opens his mouth but Adam says, "Go, now. I thought you said you wanted to find Dean for something?"

Dean ducks behind a bookshelf when Michael walks past, but the angel backtracks and peers at him curiously. "Wh-" he starts.

Dean slams his hand over his mouth and tugs him down with him. Michael veers back.

"What are you-" he whispers, and Dean hushes him again, peeking around the corner again.

"I just don't know that that will work, Adam," Cas is saying, and Dean curses at Michael through prayer for making him miss the conversation.

Michael looks insulted.

Dean could not care less.

"It worked for me, man," Adam reassures, patting Cas on the shoulder and walking around him.

Cas looks a bit lost, so Dean stands and shoos Michael away insistently. He runs his hand through his hair.

He walks down the hall. Cas spots him immediately, and Dean smiles at him. It comes easily. Truly, it is the most natural thing in the world, relaxing now with Cas and-

Cas grabs him, and Dean stumbles a bit. Cas doesn't apologize, or say anything, really. He just leans close and kiss him on his mouth.

Dean stills in shock. And then he grips the edges of the trench coat and kisses back.

...

8\. _Threading Ribbons, Weaving Patterns_

Finally.

His wings fluff behind his back as he presses Dean into the wall.

Kissing him is all he wants. It's as if everything in the world has come to a standstill and he doesn't have to worry anymore.

Dean's hands under his shirt and his breathy little noises are all that matter.

He lowers his hands to Dean's thighs, and while he seems hesitant, Dean hoists himself up and wraps his legs around Cas' waist anyway. He sighs- in relief, shock, happiness, Cas isn't sure- and wraps his arms around Cas' neck to bury his face.

But. Cas can feel the heat of Dean's arousal and so he knows this isn't a turn off. It's the opposite.

He files it away for later.

Cas kicks open their door and lets his grace push it shut behind them, moving quickly to lay Dean on the bed, spread and flushed red.

Cas loves this, loves him.

"Cas..."

Dean's flushing darker, evidently embarrassed, and so Cas smiles and leans over to kiss him again.

"I am in love with you, Dean Winchester," he breathes, and Dean swallows audibly.

"Ah, ah, me too, Cas," he mutters, and Cas understands.

It'll get easier.

For now.

Cas lifts Dean's shirt over his head, and quickly pulls his own off, too, when it becomes evident that Dean would rather not be the only one without clothes.

Cas nips and kisses along Dean's torso as he opens his belt and pulls down his jeans and boxers.

Dean gives him the same treatment, sitting up to reach better.

Cas pushes him back down and Dean rolls his eyes. "Pushy much?" he says, snarky, and Cas pins his hands above his head with his grace and delights in the flush of red that burns through Dean's body.

"Guess so," Dean mutters, and groans when Cas pushes a slicked up finger to his entrance.

"Patience," he mutters. "Next time, it will be easier," Cas says.

"Next time," Dean repeats. "Next time?"

"Oh, yes," Cas mutters, biting into Dean's nipple. Dean arches under him and he quickly slips a second finger inside.

Dean is gasping and writhing delightfully. Cas will never forget this, he knows.

A third finger, and then he pulls away, giving Dean a lingering kiss as he slides inside.

It doesn't take long before Dean is screaming, and Cas is somewhat shocked at how loud he is. He slams his grace up over the walls to muffle the noise, unwilling to let anyone else hear.

Dean comes moments later, and so Cas picks up the pace and lets his own pleasure wash over him.

Dean kisses him lazily and they maneuver themselves under the blankets after Cas cleans them up.

Dean slips into sleep and Cas lets his wings curl around him, closing his own eyes and savoring the warmth.

...

Michael is miffed about something, and he won't talk to Adam about it, so he left him on the bed to sulk and wandered into the kitchen, trying to get away from the sounds of his oldest brother and his new boyfriend.

Sam is sitting on his laptop when he gets there, for once not attached to the archangel trickster.

"No Gabriel?" Adam comments, not really concerned, but trying to play nice.

"Mm, no," Sam mutters, clearly distracted. "He got called to heaven for something or another."

Adam stows that away under the file "Questions for Michael" and leans on the counter.

"At what point does the hunter-thing kick in?" he asks. He hasn't left this place in days. He never stays in one place for so long. Never has.

"About now," Sam says, and maneuvers the laptop for Adam to see. "Missing hearts and claw marks? Evidently a werewolf, so an easy shot with a silver bullet. We're not the closest hunters to the case, but I need to get out of here," Sam shoots Adam a glance. "Clearly you feel the same."

"Wanderlust must run in the family," he says absently, wondering how Sam got werewolf from such a small amount of information.

"What to head out?" Sam asks.

Adam is caught off guard. "What?"

"Let's go take care of it. It's a day's drive away and it's something I can take care of alone, so I can train you along the way. You in?"

Adam sends a quick prayer to Michael and nods. "Hell yeah."

...

Sam scribbles a note and he and Adam are gone an hour later. It's midnight, but neither of them care.

...

Jade is shocked awake by the smell of something burning. He sits up quickly, and a look around confirms that Luc isn't in the bed anymore.

He gets up and wanders into the adjacent kitchen, and "something burning" turns out to be bacon, burned beyond recognition.

Luc is eating it carelessly, reading one of the magazines the hotel left for them. He tosses it into the table as Jade approaches and kicks out the other chair. "Eat," he says, pushing the plate over.

Jade sits quickly but doesn't eat, wondering-

"Food tastes good, you can just eat for the taste, idiot," Luc says.

Jade takes a bite, smiling grimly at Luc over the table. The archangel rolls his eyes and stands at the window, staring out it. His fingers are pressed together in front of his face.

"Do you see it, Jade?" Luc asks, after several minutes of silence.

Jade jumps. "See what, sir?"

He walks over just in time to see Luc rolling his eyes again. "We just spent a whole week drinking together, drop the formalities," he scolds.

Has it been a week? Jade isn't sure. Time seems fuzzy somehow.

"Do you see it, Jade?" Luc repeats. "The world is slowing down. They're even walking slower," he says.

Jade looks out the window. And yeah, he's right. Alarm runs through Jade like a blade, but Luc rests his hand on Luc's shoulder. "Relax," he soothes. "I'll let Michael know. But for now? Let's just stay here."

"While there are problems?"

Luc shrugs. "Never really bothered me even before I Fell, but if you're that insistent I'll text Sam Winchester, who is bound to do something about it."

Since when does Luc have Sam Winchester's phone number?

Jade brushes the thought away and nods. "Yes," he says.

For the third time in as many minutes Luc rolls his eyes at him. "Good grief, I'll lose my eyes at this rate," he sighs. "Pull the stick out of your ass, Jade."

He picks up his phone and pays attention to that for a few seconds before tossing it to the corner of the room.

"Now," he mutters, walking closer, until Jade finds himself backed against the wall. His heart rate picks up. "What do you say about having some fun?"

"Um," he says intelligently, and Luc laughs this time.

"Don't be nervous," he whispers, and closes the gap between their mouths.

Jade really should care. But he doesn't. He just kisses back and knows he'll be burned later.

...

"How about you just shut up?"

He's exhausted. Trying to find Lucifer the Damned is like looking for a needle in a haystack- every little strand ends quickly and pokes you hard enough to cut.

Neither Sam nor Dean have been answering their phones and Crowley is at his wits' end.

He gives one last glare at the demon in front of him and disappears.

...

"Mother," he greets, and feels a thread of satisfaction at watching her pull at the chains. "I need your assistance," he says.

"I will give anything for you, my dear son," she says, eyelashes fluttering, "As long as you get me out of these chains."

Crowley shakes his head. "No can do, Mother dear. If you won't help from where you are, I'll draw the information I need from your pretty head with a variety of unique methods I invented myself-"

"No, no, wait!"

He pauses. Waits.

"What do you want?" Rowena says, and it's pathetic really. She's one of the most powerful witches alive and she submits so quickly.

"I want the location of the remainder of the Grand Coven."

...

"Brandon?" Rebecca asks. "What?"

"I require your help, sister," he cuts her off.

There's a knife in his hands and an arsenal of spells at his disposal. She's disinclined to refuse him anything.

"With what?"

He measures her steadily. Then, "I don't know if you noticed, but there was a huge flux in energy recently, mostly centering around Oklahoma."

She noticed. Oh, boy had she noticed. The spirits of the Grand Coven, hidden in old burial grounds.

She has to wonder what called them back.

"I did," Brandon sounds insulted. She redirects her attention to him. Remembers that he reads minds.

"Why?"

"To kill the angels."

Her mouth drops open and her eyes grow wide.

...

9\. _Drawn Into Your Mystery_

Raphael spends most of his time in heaven redecorating.

It is hopelessly mundane.

After some time, he sets down one of his favorite books from Earth- humans are good for a few things- on the table in his quarters and leans down. He lets his wings relax into the floor, and it hurts.

He hasn't relaxed in many millennia.

Chuck finds him there.

"Are you alright, Raphael?" he asks, and Raphael jolts upward in shock.

"What-where-?"

Chuck ignores Raphael's helpless spluttering in favor of looking at the book. " _The Thirteenth Tale_ ," he reads out loud. Pauses. "You like this?"

Raphael nods, confused and honored and nervous, all at once. "Yes, Father."

He doesn't know what else to say.

Chuck nods. "Can I borrow it?"

"Uh, I- yes, Father."

He never stutters. He had forgotten what it felt like to be close to his father.

Chuck eyes him slowly, and Raphael has to resist the urge to fidget. "Heaven will be under attack within the year," Chuck says, tucking the book into the pocket of his overcoat.

"Father?"

"I want you to lead defense. Make sure to keep this between you and I, Raphael. Let your brothers sort themselves out on Earth, and I will tell them in due time." Chuck gives him a weighted look and moves to leave.

"I- Wait!" he calls, and Chuck turns, expectant. He swallows, then says, "What of Lucifer? He abandoned his post here and took Jade with him-"

"Oh, I know," Chuck laughs. "I know. I wondered which angel he would take with him, but I never expected Jade would go. Annalise or Jackson, perhaps, but not Jade." Chuck shrugs. "But I can see them. They're alright. I would not worry after Luciel, Raphael. He is not causing harm."

Raphael finds that hard to believe. But he doesn't say anything. "Yes, Father."

...

The key is not hard to find. It is the redhead attached to it that makes things difficult.

She fights with a fury he has never seen. She chokes him to death with her thighs and rips his necklace apart while she does it.

The last thing he registers is the darkness of the beads in her hands, and the green of her eyes.

...

There's a phone booth.

She stumbles into it, her wounds sluggishly bleeding, and dials the phone number she knows by heart.

It rings, and rings, and rings. She counts eight. "Hello?" a groggy voice asks.

"Dean," she says, relieved.

"Charlie?" he asks, shock in his voice. She can hear sheets and a foreign voice calling faintly for Dean to come back, and then a door shuts.

"Charlie, is that you?" he asks again.

"Yeah," she laughs nervously, the blood sticky on her fingers. "I- I don't know where I am, and I'm gonna bleed out, here. Can you trace the call?"

"Shit, yes, Charlie, hold on..." Dean says, panicked.

Relief hits her like a tidal wave, and she sighs. "Charlie, don't you dare," Dean says suddenly, and she laughs.

"Still here, Dean-o. Just...relieved you're coming, is all. I'm still standing."

"Good," he says breathlessly. "I got you, Charlie, you're an hour away. Can you hold on that long?"

"Yes."

...

"So? Are you going to tell me, or not? Personally, I hope you stay quiet, so I can test some things..."

"I don't know!" Rowena shouts, leaning forward, her shoes scraping on the floor. "I don't know where they are!"

"Loyal to the organization that wants you dead? I never understood you, Mother."

She shakes her head with a muffled sob. He wouldn't, surely...

He presses his fingertips to the wall. The electric shocks burn through her veins and it hurts. Oh, lord, it hurts. The tears stream down her face without permission.

...

"Aim like this," Sam says, demonstrating. Adam narrows his eyes and pulls the trigger.

Two in the center and one slightly to the left, Sam figures that's good enough for now. People are dying.

"Looks good, Adam," he says, clapping him on the shoulder.

Adam glances at Sam's target, takes in the overlapping centralized bullet holes and sighs. "How long until I get that good?"

Sam shrugs. "I've aimed a gun and pulled the trigger every day for over twenty years," he says. "It comes with practice. You're doing really well for someone who just picked up a gun for the first time two hours ago."

Adam still seems unhappy, so Sam says, "It'll get better if you want to keep going."

"I want to keep going," Adam fires back quickly. "I don't think I'll ever look at the world the same way again and you're the only family I've got anymore so I'll stick around as long as you'll have me."

Sam smiles. "Dean and I are heaven's version of Siamese twins- joined at the hip and not able to be separated even beyond death. Stick around, Adam, you'll join us there, too."

Adam's eyes brighten, just a little, and Sam thinks he's forgiven, just a bit.

...

"On the floor, Adam!" Sam shouts, and Adam ducks. A knife barely misses his hair and imbeds itself into the chest of the werewolf, her eyes growing wide. She lets out a choked gasp, blood dribbling down her chin, and then she falls forward.

The knife slides in further and he can see the tip from her spine. His lips curl in revulsion.

A hand on his shoulder. "When I say on the floor, I mean drop, chest to the floor," Sam says, and swipes at Adam's head.

He ducks reflexively, and then his mouth drops open as Sam shows him a lock of hair. There's a bit of blood on the blond stands that Sam eyes wearily.

"Sit," Sam says sternly, pushing him into the chair and stepping close. Fingers brush through his hair, and then Sam steps back. "You'll live, no stitches."

Adam opens his mouth to speak but gets interrupted by Sam's phone.

"Dean," Sam says, and then puts the device on speaker. "Hey."

"Charlie's back from Oz; she's bleeding in the backseat."

"What?" Adam and Sam chorus. Adam in confusion while Sam says it in shock.

They exchange an amused glance for a second and fleetingly, Adam sees that, yeah, this is his brother.

It's an odd feeling.

"Hey, Sam, and whoever's with you," a female voice greets over the phone.

"Our baby brother Adam," Dean says.

"Ah," Charlie says, and Adam lets out a noise of indignation.

"I'm not a baby," he says loudly, making sure this girl knows that.

She laughs, and he can hear Dean chuckling, too. "Don't worry, kiddo. I'm Dean's baby sister as far as he's concerned."

"Damn right you are, and don't forget it, Charlie."

Sam's smiling. "Are you okay, Charlie?"

"I will be, I think. I've heard you've got angels on your side now, and Dean has some bribery to get them to heal me, so it'll be fine."

Adam tries hard not to think about the bribery.

"Well, that's good," Sam replies. "I'll be back in town with Adam in a day or two. We just finished up this werewolf case- he's really good, Dean, come with us next time- and we're heading back to the hotel."

Adam flushes with pride, and he decides it won't be hard to be happy in this make-shift family.

They're broken and bruised, a bit cruel and wicked, but they care more than anyone Adam has ever seen, including his mother.

Forgiveness comes easy.

…

These spells are new.

Rebecca reads them over as Brandon paces behind her.

She flexes her fingers. "I think I understand," she says, and he's there between one heartbeat and the next.

"Ready?"

She nods, slowly. Glances back at the spell and reaches forward, drawing her power out with a pull. "Let us begin, brother."

He grins, and copies her movements.

They take the next step in unison, their bare feet tracking bloody prints in an echo of Enochian power across the floor.

…

Chuck feels it be moment it begins. His eyes slide shut. He hopes they're ready. But he knows they're not.

…

10\. _If She Promised to You Heaven?_

"Cas? Are you here?"

He sits up at the call. Expanding his wings, he lands fluidly in front of Dean, who smiles at the sight. The girl he's holding makes Cas frown, however.

"Cas, Charlie. Charlie, this is Cas- my, ah, boyfriend," Dean says, stuttering only a little.

Cas has heard of Charlie, of course. He's just never met her. He bows his head in her direction. She smiles in return then swats Dean on the arm. "You never told me you scored in the relationship business, you ass," she says loudly. Cas can sense Michael curiously wandering out into the front room in his peripherals. Dean scowls at him.

Charlie follows his gaze. "Geez, Dean, how many men do you have living with you?"

Dean splutters and she cracks up laughing, mirth still shining in her gaze even as she bends over in pain.

"Oooh, ow, okay, peasant, help the queen here before she keels over," Charlie groans, and Dean secures her more firmly in his arms.

"Yes, Your Majesty," he says sarcastically, laying her on the couch. "Cas- or Michael, don't care who- help me out, here. She'll bleed out at this rate."

Cas presses his fingertips to her forehead, and she sighs in relief. "Thank god," she mutters, and sits up slowly.

"No," Michael says slowly, sounding confused. "Father had nothing to do with it- that was Castiel."

Charlie stares at him for a long moment. Dean shakes his head. "Ignore him. He's an angel that's been here only, like, two weeks, and everything he knows he learned from my kid brother."

She nods like she understands, and Cas hides a smile when she leans over and whispers loudly- "So your brother hasn't taught him the meaning of expressions?"

Michael rolls his eyes. "I'm not that terrible-" he defends.

Charlie laughs. "I'm pulling your strings like a puppet, kiddo. If you've been here for two weeks you're doing fine."

Cas finds himself even more amused as Michael starts muttering "Kiddo" under his breath. He wanders away.

"He always like that?" Charlie inquires.

"A pain in my ass?" Dean checks. "Yes."

Charlie smiles and then pulls Dean in for a hug. "Damn, I missed you, Dean," she whispers, and Cas takes a few steps back, letting them be.

It has been years, and for humans, that's a very long time indeed.

…

Adam wanders into the room he's claimed with Michael to find the archangel exactly where he left him.

He makes a face and tosses his jacket onto the chair in the corner of the room. "Did you move at all while I was gone?" he asks. Michael turns.

"I left the room an hour ago, and I discovered Charlie Bradbury to be… unpleasant."

He frowns. He hadn't thought anything of the sort, seeing how she stuck to Dean like they were joined at the hip, only to separate when Sam leaned over for a hug. She'd walked around the counter to throw her arms around Adam next, and when she pulled away she held him by the shoulders. "You're very lucky to be a Winchester. They serve me," she'd said. Dean snorted and Sam huffed a laugh.

"Hardly," Dean sniffed, and she'd gone back to Dean like a magnet and didn't leave his side again.

Adam sighs. Michael can be trying at the best of times, and this was not one of the better moments. "Babe, whatever she did I'm sure she was only joking around. Sam and Dean wouldn't like her so much if she meant any harm," he says, trying to soothe. It's ridiculous. He's a twenty-three year old and he's trying to coax a being that is literally a thousand times older than he is that a girl he just met didn't mean to hurt his feelings.

When did this become his life?

Michael shrugs and doesn't say anything, but the tension drops out of his shoulders so Adam lets it go.

He sits next to the angel on the bed and Michael tugs him into his side, letting Adam rest his head on his shoulder. "I don't know when I became so dependent," Adam whispers. "I've missed you more than I miss my mother and it's been two days."

Michael leans down to kiss him. "I missed you, too. In your defense, Kate Milligan was a trying woman in her own right," he offers. Adam closes his eyes and smiles indulgently.

"She was, but so are you," he returns and Michael huffs.

"I can give you so much more than she could…" he says, and pushes Adam back on the bed. Adam raises his eyebrows.

"Prove it."

…

Gabriel stares.

The angel- Macy- shuffles under his gaze. "I'm sorry, sir," she says it again. It's all she's said in the past twenty minutes that they've stood here.

Now Gabriel just sighs. "Why didn't you tell Raphael?"

She shakes her head, hair bouncing with the movement. "He's been unreachable. Something has kept him from seeing anyone," she offers.

His lips thin. "Right." He glances at the hilltop where the archangels reside when they're in heaven. "I'll take care of it, thank you…"

She flies away in a flit of feathers. He eyes the rosy feathers she left behind and calls another of his siblings over. "See to it that she gets taken care of," he instructs, holding up the feather. There's blood on the end of it. "Grooming is a good idea, in case none of you remembered that."

The angel nods frantically and leaves in the next breath. Yellow green feathers add to the rosy ones and he takes a deep breath. His siblings have let themselves go.

He shoves the problem out of his mind after sending his irritation about the situation though Angel Radio, delighting in the threads of surprise he gets in return. He cuts the connection.

Golden wings take him into the air and half a second later he's at the door of Raphael's accommodations. He looks over the place- it looks a little run down, which is completely unlike his brother.

He knocks.

There is no answer, so he pushes open the door and takes a look around.

The inside is clean, everything in its place. Not a speck of dirt anywhere except the bookshelf, which has several books missing. Gabriel walks over and takes a look.

He knows immediately what's missing. His eyes widen, and he reconnects to Angel Radio faster than he has in a hundred thousand years. "Sound the alarms!"

And his order is carried out without question or hesitation, which is nice, but what isn't nice is the hand over his mouth and the bracelet on his wrist that sucks his grace away. His wings start fluttering wildly in alarm, and a smooth voice whispers, "You're going to regret that, Archangel Gabriel."

…

Cas and Michael look up at the same time. Michael takes off so fast the dishes in his hands shatter on the floor and Cas spares the half second it takes to kiss Dean goodbye before he's gone, too.

No explanation.

"Cas?" Dean calls. He exchanges worried looks with his brothers and Charlie, and then Sam has an idea.

"Gabriel? Can you come back yet?" Sam yells.

They wait. But no angel shows.

…

Luc hears the cries of Gabriel and Raphael long before Michael and Cassie do. He pulls away from Jade quickly, cocking his head to the side to listen. "Sir?" Jade asks.

He hushes the younger angel with a wave of his hand. _Sound the alarms. Sound the alarms._

Luc is amazed that Jade can't hear it. "Sir? Lucifer?"

"Heaven is in danger," he says slowly. He doesn't know what to think.

So he looks out the window.

Time is frozen.

His eyebrows furrow and he flies onto the sidewalk, trusting Jade to follow.

He does.

"What-"

"Can you shut up for a second and let me think?" Luc yells, whipping around. Jade rears back and his eyes grow wide in shock and fear. Luc calms immediately. "Just. Let me think."

He hopes Jade can see the apology so he won't have to say it.

Jade relaxes and follows Luc in silence as he waves a hand in front of human's faces, getting in front of them- entirely too close for the comfort of most Americans- and making faces.

Nothing gets them to move. He pauses. "I wonder…"

The idea is insane. Ridiculous. But he was the king, once. Maybe…

He pulls out his phone and dials a familiar number.

…

The spell completes with little fanfare, only the lightest of white sparks in the air.

Rebecca collapses in a nearby chair, exhausted and light-headed. Brandon follows her example and drops right into the floor, chest heaving. He snaps his fingers, and a man appears from the shadows. "Food, and drink," Brandon orders. "Immediately."

"Yes sir," the man says, and disappears.

She eyes her little brother wearily, but he continues to lie there, not a single concern other than thirst and hunger.

"What?" he demands eventually, lifting his head long enough to glare at her before collapsing again.

"Just wondering what comes next," she says. He huffs.

"A meal, stitches, and bed, for the both of us. Such spell work is quite tiring," he replies, waving his hand airily. "But we did it," he says next, and his face lights up.

He leaps to his feet, triumphant. "We did it, Becca!" he yells, her old nickname falling from his lips. He doesn't notice or care, it seems.

"Hmm," she replies. "So we did. What now? Waiting?"

His smile melts away. "Yes, unfortunately. It takes time for the spell to work…"

"Then we wait," she says.

He grins again. "You'll stay?" he asks.

She raises her eyebrow. "I have a choice?"

He shrugs. "I needed you for the spell, and that's done, so you are free to go, if you so choose."

She hums.

…

She decides to stay, but she goes out and starts killing again to restore herself.

…

Rowena sags against the wall, her hands bleeding above her head.

There is nothing left of the son who had adored her, once.

The door to the cell is opened, and a demon drags a wayward spirit inside, leaving her in the middle of the room. "You can eat her or you can starve," the demon says carelessly, waving his hand. One of her manacles comes undone and the cell slams shut.

She rolls her wrist slowly, eyeing the young thing that her dear son has gifted her today.

 _Can't have you dying on me._

How endearing.

Rowena stretches her hand out in front of her. "Com'ere, darlin'," she soothes, but still the spirit flutters away to the other corner of the cell.

She sighs, annoyed. "I won't hurt ya, now com'ere." Still, the spirit doesn't move.

The next three hours are wasted with her trying to get the spirit with various methods. When coaxing failed, she tried reasoning with it, but that didn't work either. She tried screaming at it and trying to just reach it, threatening it.

She is reduced to crawling as far as she can to reach it , spitting and screaming, and this is how Crowley finds her.

"You are the singularly most entertaining thing in this dratted hole," is his greeting. She snarls at him, and he smiles. "Tut, tut, now, Mother. Manners," he scolds, and kicks the spirit at her absently.

It screams and Rowena digs her nails into its heart.

Crowley watches distractedly as she eats, and she can't bring herself to care much.

Bastard hasn't fed her in a week.

Maybe two. It's becoming harder to tell time.

"I got an interesting phone call," Crowley says. She looks up.

"Yes, Fergus?" she responds and he twitches visibly. Good.

"It's Crowley," he mutters, and then returns to his normal voice. "As I was saying, this phone call requested your assistance. I thought it was odd, considering no one knows you're here, or even alive, so I asked who, exactly, I was talking to. He seemed insulted.

"Tell me, Mother, when were you ever in contact with Lucifer?"

Her mouth falls open in shock. "Wh-? Never! The Devil- he's been locked away all my life- it's not-"

"Possible?" Crowley interrupts, and she nods dumbly. "He wasn't locked away three years ago, Mother. He wandered the Earth and when he was sealed away I took his place as king. Now, he is free again and in heaven's good graces somehow.

"Here's where you come in." Her son leans in close, hands behind his back. "You spy on him, I'll make you a member of my court. You tell me everything he wants from you, and report back to me, or I will ensure your death. Do we have a deal?"

She snarls inwardly. Once a crossroads demon, always a crossroads demon. She is a prisoner here for eternity no matter her choice. "I'll spy on 'im for ya, Fergus," she snarls. He smirks.

…

11\. _I'm Gonna Set Things Right Again_

Dean busies himself with the glass. He thinks of how they're have to replace it, about how Michael is awfully careless. He thinks of anything but Cas and the worry in his eyes.

His hands shake and he drops another piece. He bites at his lip and hides it quickly, trying his best to seal his worry away.

Pale, thin fingers reach for the glass to help. He glances up, expecting Charlie.

It's Adam. "I'm worried, too," he whispers, and they stand together.

Charlie is frowning. "That was odd…" she starts. "Something must be wrong."

"Something is definitely wrong," Sam agrees, glancing around, the crow's feet around his eyes more prominent than before.

The air is cold.

Dean shivers and rubs his arms. "Anyone else cold?" he asks, putting the glass pieces in the sink. He turns back to them, and freezes.

Sam is frozen midway through standing, eyes halfway through blinking, and his fingers barely unbent as he was gesturing. Charlie has her leg partly up as if she was going to cross her leg over her knee.

He looks to Adam, and has to close his eyes to his petrified face.

"What the hell?" he wonders aloud. He hopes it will rouse them.

It doesn't.

But the flutter of wings makes him turn. "Dean Winchester," an unfamiliar angel intones.

He rears back, and the angel is quicker. "I am not here to hurt you, only to talk to you," he says.

"Who the hell are you?" he screams, reaching behind him until he can find the knife drawer.

He yanks it open and feels around for the spare angel blade. When he finds it, he holds it out in front of himself, guarding Adam with his body and his eyes are on the angel.

"I am called Jade," he says. "I am as close to Lucifer as you will get right now, Dean."

Lucifer. He hadn't realized the dick would want anything to do with them, though in hindsight, that was a stupid assumption. "Why would I want to be close to Lucifer?" he asks wearily. Jade shrugs.

"He is the only angel with some idea on how to defeat this," he informs, nodding to Dean's brothers and Charlie. "But I'm afraid not even I know the extent of it."

"Why am I the only one left moving?" he asks then, choosing to file the "plans" away for a nasty prayer later.

"You are the only human that has completed a bonding with an angel- the brand, mental link, and physical interactions…" Jade seems uncomfortable and Dean smirks.

"You mean sex?" he asks, and laughs a little when the angel shuffles.

"Yes. Those things equate to a human marriage, I suppose. It is a link not often formed even between angels for its permanence," Jade explains.

Dean's mirth dissolves under the rush of the memories, of Cas. He grits his teeth and holds tighter to the angel blade.

It is a little unsettling to realize he is essentially married to Cas and he didn't even know it, though. He wouldn't believe it if it didn't make sense.

He hates angels sometimes.

Jade cocks his head to the side.

"It seems Lucifer has finished-"

Another rush of wings and Dean nearly blacks out at the thought of Lucifer so close to Sam, invading his space, his _home_ …

But Lucifer ignores Same entirely. "I've called in a favor," he greets, and claps Dean on the shoulder. "This is going to be so much fun."

…

When the waitress stops moving in place, he knows perfectly well what's going on.

It's been a while.

He purses his lips and stands, grabbing his cane. He walks over to the waitress and takes care not to touch her as he takes the plate from her tray.

He walks right out of the restaurant with the plate and the food. He doesn't pay for it.

Walking to the park takes no time at all, seemingly, and he takes a seat on a bench and crosses his legs as he eats. Waits.

He lowers his eyelids when she shows up. "Death," she greets, her voice distant, her power unrestrained.

"My lady," he returns, and stands. "What is the cause of this?"

She makes a light's equivalent of a shrug, shaking the shape of her head. Her form blurs. "They're trying to change what cannot be undone," she says.

"They're looking for answers in all the wrong places and it will be their downfall. Ensure it."

She vanishes and he wonders when she decided that giving him orders would work.

He will kill whoever needs to die, but if it is not their time… well.

He has to see.

…

Sam takes in a breath, feeling like he was drowning a second before.

He unbalances and falls slightly, catching himself on the counter. "Sammy?" Dean asks, and he is distant. Far away, underwater, almost. Sam shakes his head.

"Sam."

He jolts like he's been electrocuted, his mind abruptly circuiting to another path- one he'd thought he would never visit again….

"Sam, it's alright. He won't hurt you."

He has to force himself to breathe normally. The chains. The blood. The pain.

He shoves it all away and tries desperately to focus on his brother's words.

"He's here to help, Sammy. He's going to bring Gabriel back to you. Sammy, you need to focus, they need you… they need us, Sammy… Sam… Sa…"

His voice fades and his vision tints. Cold hands touch his forehead and he recoils, right into a patch of feathers. They're white as snow and something about them is familiar somehow, but they're wrong. They're supposed to be gold. Like the sunset. Like hope.

This is like ice.

He opens his eyes wearily, trying to see through the dark spots as he gets his breathing under control. Dark amber eyes are all he sees.

He sinks into darkness, not realizing that they were the wrong shade of amber.

…

Gabriel comes to slowly.

At first, he doesn't realize what's wrong. He shifts his shoulders and promptly cries out, eyes moving backward to see his wings stained with own blood and nailed to the ceiling above him.

Tears well up, unbidden, in his eyes and he takes a deep breath, planning to sink into his grace and restore his wings.

His grace is gone.

Well. Not gone, exactly, but he can't reach it. Panic wells up.

A groan. "Is that you, brother?"

The voice is familiar. He hasn't heard it in a while. "Raphael," he sighs, the name a wispy breath on his tongue. "What's going on?"

"I do not know. My wings are bound and my grace is inaccessible."

There goes the last of his hope. "Same here, Ralphy," he says, eyes straining to see a figure across the room, bound in the same way.

But it isn't Raphael.

The figure doesn't stir, it makes no sound, and without the sight his grace grants him, he can't tell who is in the vessel. Dark hair and a dark suit could be Castiel or Michael. The green wings give it away, however, and he knows who that is.

Another figure gradually becomes visible- and the dark wings sparkle with white and pink, and that is Castiel.

The thought of three of his brothers chained here makes his heart cinch in worry.

Is Luc here, too?

He doesn't dare ask. Castiel and Michael are knocked out cold, and he still can't see Raphael but he can hear his pained whimpers every once in a great while.

The tears spill over little by little.

…

She wakes refreshed. A warm bed and food had done her well.

The water in the shower is warm, and her muscles relax for the first time in a century, maybe longer.

"Lady Rebecca?"

And that's another thing. Her brother has made her his equal.

She dries her hair with a thought, the water flowing from it with a cold drizzle like feeling.

She opens the door and walks away, reaching for her closet door and letting it swing open, revealing the clothes her brother has provided. Cool, silky dresses and warm cotton ones, sweaters, blouses, tee-shirts, jeans, slacks…

She could get used to this.

"Lady Rebecca, the spell has worked," the servant bows and walks away. She smiles and tugs a pair of gray slacks and a blue blouse from their hangers.

This is it. She and her brother are going home.

…

12\. _Let's Make Reality Actuality_

The bed is cold.

Adam rolls over and tries to recapture the scent of Michael on the angel's pillow, but it fades faster with each passing night.

It's been two weeks.

He thought two days was bad.

It's been a hundred years since he got together with Michael, after all. And, by God, he _hurts_.

Dean and Sam aren't much better. Dean is actually bonded and Sam has been with Gabriel a long time, too. Longer than Dean and Cas.

It's hard to suffer, but harder still to know everyone else is, too.

Luc is nowhere to be found. Some part of Adam aches for him, too.

"Adam?"

"What," he says, and Dean pokes his head in.

"There's food in the microwave. Sam and I are going on a short vamp hunt an hour away if you want to come," Dean offers.

Adam sighs and sits up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Why not," he mutters, and Dean nods.

"Join us in ten."

Killing something will do him good, Adam thinks, throwing off the sheets and reaching for his jeans on the floor. He tugs them on and finds a shirt- flannel, like his brothers, since that's all they bought him with the remains of the thousand dollars he had. Adam sighs, leaning his back on the wall and sending a short prayer to Michael.

 _Come home. Be safe._

…

"Since when are you all buddy-buddy with the angels?"

The glass clinks delicately as the alcohol bottle connects with the rim of the fine china, but Luc hardly registers the noise.

Jade stands slightly behind him, weary and the feathers on his wings are sharpened to deadly blades as a reflection of his unease.

Luc is the only one who can see them clearly, but the demons around them stare as if they can see the threat.

Luc shrugs. "Since my father restored my power and Michael and I called a truce. We're needed for more than just order, and I see now what it is. I would like to request your help, Crowley."

The King of Hell hands him one of the glasses and offered one to Jade, who eyes it like it will bite him. Crowley shrugs and downs the liquid.

"Let's say I was inclined to help you, Lucifer. Why should I? You hate demons," Crowley says, ever the negotiator. Again, Luc shrugs.

"That is true," he agrees. "You lot are nothing but scum, but orders are orders, I suppose. I'm not going to spit in Father's face after he set me free." _And he gave me my brothers back._

"As for what's in it for you, how about the elimination of any threat from me?" Luc asks, a hopefully earnest look on his face.

Crowley considers. "And my mother? What do you want from her?" he asks instead.

That one is easy. "She will lead me to the Grand Coven, at least what is left of them."

The demon narrows his eyes. "What do you want with them?"

Luc rolls his eyes. Jade shifts when a demon slides in the room, his wings fluffing up even further. "You been topside lately?" Luc demands. "Everything has gone haywire. I think someone is trying to summon Time."

"Time," Crowley repeats dully. "Is an abstract concept invented by humans to-"

"Wrong," Luc cuts in. "I remember the day she came into being. Michael and I were less than a week old. It was only after she was brought to life that we understood that concept. Time, is a vicious woman, one who, given the chance, will freeze everything she sees. And she can see all worlds, even this one. But she is not yet strong enough to reach here or heaven."

"Fine," Crowley says. "Let's say I believe that. The Grand Coven helps how?"

Luc downs the drink in his hands and gestures insistently for another. Crowley scowls but pours another. "They help because only humans of their caliber would be stupid enough to try such a spell. I need to find out which they used and undo it."

Crowley nods. "Fine, fine. You say you will not try to kill us off, then?"

"I can't promise for my brothers, but I will not harm you."

Luc's words have a loophole, one Crowley is quick to point out. "And you won't order them to?"

Luc thins the lips of his vessel and scowls. "No," he snarls.

Crowley pulls him close. "We have a deal," he says, and seals their lips together.

Jade watches and grits his teeth.

…

Watching the deterioration of humankind is somewhat entertaining, mostly because he gets free food out of it.

Chuck is silent in his approach.

Death watches his fellow primordial being impassively as he seats himself at the other side of the table.

"You've spoken with her."

It isn't a question. Death nods. "Yes. She is… not all there. Millennia have taken their toll."

Chuck nods. His eyes are downcast. "I do not want to watch my greatest creation die off," he confesses. "They are perfect."

Death's eyebrows go up. "Your angels would argue that point, but I digress. Time will kill them if your archangels don't lock her away like they did your sister."

Another nod. "I know. I cannot reach most of my archangels at present."

"Cannot or will not?" Death inquires, curious. He dips one of his chips into the salsa in front of him, eating the chip once it is suitably coated.

"Cannot."

This gives Death pause. "Beg pardon?"

"Luciel is the only one I can reach. He communicates regularly, now that he has noticed the issue. He has made a deal with his demonic creations to find the Grand Coven of Witches."

Death nods, slowly. "Interesting that he is the only one you can reach."

Chuck smiles, fleetingly. "The Winchesters are not amused," he says.

"I would imagine not," Death agrees, dipping another chip as he thinks of Dean Winchester and the easy way he gives up his life. Of the boy's compassion and fleeting moments of hope. It has been extinguished.

"How can I help them?"

And therein lies the problem. Even the greatest master of life cannot save everything, cannot save everyone. "You wait until they call. Then you seal her away with the aid of your archangels. Until then. You stay put. You wait. And you watch."

It is a hard thing to do.

…

Castiel wakes and immediately notices the pain.

"Cassie?"

Gabriel. He groans.

"Castiel," and that is Raphael. Another moan from his left, and he looks over. Michael.

"Do you know what is going on, brothers?" Castiel asks, trying to keep the waver out of his voice.

"No, Cassie," Gabriel sighs. "I've sensed a human presence, but beyond that, with my grace sealed, there isn't much I can do. Is your grace gone, too?"

Castiel hadn't noticed. It wasn't long ago that this feeling had been quite normal, after all. "Yes," he mutters.

"Is Lucifer here?" Michael asks, his voice breaking from disuse. It makes Castiel wonder how long they've been sealed here.

"No, but that is hardly a surprise," Raphael says bitterly. "He cannot be trusted, and look; he has left us to rot here."

"You don't know that, brother," Castiel says. "He could be trying to get us out."

 _I am._

Raphael jolts and then cries out as his wings are jostled. Castiel cocks his head to the side and tries to listen.

 _It is Time, brothers. She has been called. It is her manifestation that holds you captive. I- connect- interfere- the Winchester brothers- I- save you-_

The connection cuts and a feminine voice snarls in irritation. "How he got through to you, I will find out. You, my dear archangels, will stay put. Not like you have much choice."

The voice is old.

Castiel has heard of Time. She is older than Raphael, but younger than Luc.

Luc, clearly, has a plan. It is their only hope now, and Castiel marvels at his life these past few years. An ally in Lucifer the Morningstar. The Betrayer. The Fallen.

He never would've guessed.

…

Oklahoma is mostly very boring, Rebecca muses. There is nothing of interest.

Except, of course, the remains of the Grand Coven.

Brandon bounds ahead of her, full of life and energy, just like he used to be. It makes her sad to look at him.

She will kill him one day.

She knows this as she knows that she was born in Paris. She knows this as she knows that her twin sister died long ago, repulsed by the magic the rest of her family dappled in so freely. She knows that what Brandon has done will cost him everything.

But after everything he did to her?

Rebecca will watch him die and she will laugh.

For now, she drops to her knees and watches as the members of the Grand Coven- ghosts, malformed, hideous, and hardly the font of power they were once, begin to chant.

The magic resonates in her bones.

…

Dean has been watching Dr. Sexy MD reruns for the past three hours, Adam sitting, riveted, at his side, and Sam over at the desk with his laptop open and a thousand books around him. Charlie is asleep in the chair next to the couch, an empty bowl of popcorn on her lap.

It is seven in the evening when Luc returns, Jade in tow.

Dean wonders why the little angel is so attached to the Devil.

Adam doesn't look away from the screen but Dean glances over, having seen this episode before in several of the dusty motel rooms he and Sam have stayed in over the years.

Sam is determined to ignore Luc, and while Dean completely understands, he really hates being the only one to talk to Luc about business. Adam had laughed with the angel over a drink well into the night and both Dean and Sam had been highly disturbed by the whole thing so now they've agreed to let Dean do the talking. Adam can chat later.

Luc leans over and kisses Adam's head anyway, much to Dean's displeasure. Adam doesn't even blink, just reaches back and runs his hand over Luc's cheek before returning his attention to the television.

Luc looks way too happy for Dean's liking. He stands and walks around the couch to take Luc by the arm, guiding him to the kitchen. "Well?" he demands.

The Devil looks irritated. "I'm not going to hurt your brothers," he says petulantly. Dean ignores this.

"I meant about _your_ brothers, not mine. What is going on? Is your plan going to be at all useful?"

"Ugh, you are impatient. Just like Michael." Dean twitches and Luc grins. "To answer your questions, I got to contact my brothers. Heaven is pretty much in disarray, but Hannah is holding down the fort for now. She is useful for something, apparently. I do not know where my brothers are, nor do I know their condition, but they are all aware. The messages would not have connected if they were not. I could sense them listening."

Dean sinks into the counter in relief. He takes a deep breath and tells himself he has to count his blessings where he gets them.

"I have made contact with the demon boy-king Crowley," Luc says next, and Dean's head jerks up.

"You know Crowley?"

Luc looks disgusted. "He kissed me when he agreed to help me find the Grand Coven and I agreed not to hunt the demons down and slaughter them like the roaches they are."

Dean laughs, harder than he has in weeks. "That's Crowley for you."

"He is repulsive."

"And that is one thing we all agree on, here," Dean says. Against his better judgment, he turns and opens the fridge, handing a beer to Luc. "Thank you," he says.

Luc nods, taking a sip of the beer. He makes a face. "This is just as horrible," he mutters, staring at it. Dean grins.

"You get used to it."

…

13\. _Time is a Thief I Would Rob_

The Grand Coven is not a happy bunch, and Rowena remembers it well.

She can still feel the phantom scars on her skin, the whisper of a touch and the agony of a spell.

She follows Luc and Jade anyway.

There are children here, kneeling. The spirits scream.

She cannot decode the language but Jade looks more disturbed by the second so she assumes it's some ancient tongue long forgotten.

"Come here," Luc says, and the screaming stop and the children turn.

"Who the hell are you?"

…

She wakes with a jerk. "Fergus," she gasps, and the demon turns, irritated.

"What, Mother?" he snaps.

"Tell Lucifer I know where they are."

…

Death is a silent observer. He always has been. So when Chuck paces back and forth, he watches.

"I think I can feel them," he says.

Death knows who he's talking about. He raises an eyebrow. "And?"

"They're hurt. But they're on Earth."

"Call in the Winchesters then," Death offers, and promptly stops watching Chuck. Instead, he looks at the array of food on the table and his fingers hover over the éclairs and the finger sandwiches as he tries to decide.

"The Winchesters?"

Death rolls his eyes. "Yes. They will want to be the ones to set your archangels free."

Chuck considers. "I suppose they will," he whispers.

…

"Hey, did you ever play computer games?" Charlie asks as soon as Dean walks in the door.

He pauses. Keeps walking to the counter where he leaves the grocery bags. "Um. No," he says, turning and digging through the fridge. He finds a couple of beers and brings them both out, handing one to Charlie over the back of the couch.

"I just wanted to know if you knew the background to Star Craft so we could go LARPing," she offers.

Dean grins, laughing. "I'm always ready to go LARPing with you, Charlie," he agrees, sitting next to her.

She smiles. "Excellent. It's in three weeks, just up the road from here…"

"What's in three weeks?"

They turn. Adam and Sam wander in, and Charlie says, "A LARPing convention, just up the road. Dean and I are gonna go."

Sam snorts. "And you call me a nerd, jerk."

"Bitch. You are a nerd."

"You're worse," Sam mutters, handing a beer to Adam.

Dean snorts in derision and looks at the webpage with Charlie. A chat log pops up.

 _Celeste?_

Charlie's eyes go wide. "How the-"

 _I know you and Dean can see this._

"Talk about creepy," Dean says, "Sam!"

"What?" Sam asks, changing direction from his bedroom to the couch.

 _I know where Castiel and the others are being held, but you have to be quick. Luc is closing in on the Grand Coven and cannot take all 500 of them alone. He will try._

"Son of a bitch," Dean swears. Charlie types her response. _Where?_

 _Northern Maine. Right on the coast. 48, -68.6. There's a building with both angel warding and high security. Clearly a human prison._

Sam curses under his breath. "That's well over two days' ride," he points out.

 _Yes, which is why I'm telling you now._

"Crrreeepy," Charlie says. "This guy is something else." _I'm guessing I'll be hacking them inside?_

 _Yes. The cave with detonate in the event of a break-in, so you'll have a minute to get the angels out once you're in. I suggest taking the bombs out before heading for my archangels._

"Is this God?" Adam asks in disbelief, glancing over Sam's shoulder. "Unreal."

 _Very real, I assure you, Adam Milligan._

"The fuck?" Adam backs away. "Okay. I say let's get in the car and go."

Dean hummed his agreement and stood. "Let's get packing."

…

She is ethereal. Her gold is faded and partly exposing the copper tone within. Her hair's ringlets are damp and not kept, windblown. Her image flickers in the rise and set of the light.

Castiel is in awe. He never would've imagined.

Gabriel scoffs at her. "You are a fragment of what you once were, Time," he says.

She turns sightless auburn eyes to him. "And so are you, little archangel. You are still recovering from the fight with The Darkness."

Gabriel narrows his eyes.

"And so are the rest of you…" she whispers. "Except you," she brushes her hand over Castiel's cheek and he jerks away. She smiles, almost kind, almost sad. "Little one."

"My lady?"

The words are timid. She turns to the noise and so do the archangels. Castiel can feel his wings start to solidify into iron blades.

"Brandon," she coos. "My savior, my Caller."

A child steps forward, wearing familiar robes, image flickering. He is not really here. Castiel instantly recognizes the symbols of the Grand Coven. "My lady, I fear my sister will betray us…"

"Then kill her," Time says dismissively, directing her focus to Michael. He lifts his head and stares at her, not blinking.

"My lady?"

"Sentiment," she scoffs. "It is your greatest weakness, as a human."

Brandon rears back and grits his teeth. His figure vanishes in a puff of smoke.

"Where were we?" Time asks, eyes lighting up.

"You were telling us where we are," Michael says, "And how to get out of here."

She looks at him and shrugs. "Maine. There is angel warding on this place and a line of burning holy fire out of the entrance. You will not be going anywhere."

She cocks her head to the side. "But I will."

Time simmers out of their vision like a mirage. "Damn," Gabriel mutters.

Castiel agrees wholeheartedly.

Raphael shakes at his bindings and snarls.

…

"Oklahoma City?"

Luc's hesitation is palpable. "I've looked there," he says.

Rowena shrugs. "I saw the sign for it in my vision."

Luc's lips thin. "You'd better be right," he warns. "Jade?"

"Sir?" Jade replies.

"Tell the demon king we'll be taking our leave and I'm taking the witch."

Jade nods and flies off.

"Lapdog," Rowena scoffs. "He's pathetic."

Luc is very suddenly very close. "You shut your mouth. The only one that insults Jade is me."

She eyes him, not really caring but nodding anyway. He pulls back.

"Have fun with the bitch- I mean witch," Crowley greets, strolling into the room with Jade, who looks highly uncomfortable.

"Oh, I will," Luc agrees, and places two fingers on her forehead.

The room dissolves.

…

Charlie yawns. Adam is asleep on her shoulder and Dean can feel his eyes tiring. Driving is a menial task now, and he's exhausted. Far from any civilization, he pulls over. "Welcome to hotel Winchester," he mutters, and Charlie nods, eyes closing.

"You want me to drive?" Sam offers. He looks wide awake.

Dean looks at him mistrustfully. "How are you so awake? We've been driving for seventeen straight hours."

"And I am the only one in this car that actually gets 8 hours sleep on a regular basis, so I'm more prepared to pull and all-nighter," Sam points out. "Plus, there is no way we can both sleep comfortably up here."

Dean can agree with that. "Do you see a motel anywhere?" he demands, gesturing.

Sam shrugs. "I bet I can find one if you let me drive."

A sigh. Dean tosses the keys to Sam and they take a moment to play Chinese fire drill.

Sam starts up the car and Dean climbs into the back with Charlie and Adam, giving Sam the front seat to himself. Charlie leans on his shoulder. "Hey," she mutters. He smiles.

He leans his cheek on her hair and doesn't say anything, but it seems like Charlie didn't expect an answer. She curls her arm around Dean's and twines their fingers, falling asleep immediately after, with both Winchesters leaning on her.

Dean settles himself into the seat and watches the road for a while; the streetlamps and their reflections, the trees on either side, the long, endless pavement. He eventually drifts off to the sound of Kansas and Sam's quiet humming.

…

A two day trip takes them 22 and half hours. Sam drives right past all cities on the highways, doing 90 in the left lanes. He hits 100 and keeps going.

Glancing in the rearview, he looks at his family in the backseat and marvels at them. Two younger siblings he never thought he'd get and his older brother, beaten and war-torn.

He changes the radio.

The edge of the lake is fast approaching, and he can see a burning fire on the left hand side.

He narrows his eyes and drives closer, seeing the faint, silvery outlines of angelic runes. He curses, but he knows he's found the archangels.

"Hey, guys," he says loudly.

Dean snorts awake, eyes wide and sitting up instantly, running a hand over his face. "Sammy?"

Adam and Charlie are slower to wake. They groan and yawn. Charlie makes a face. "Sleeping in cars sucks," she complains.

"Sorry, princess," Dean mutters. She smacks him.

"Queen," she corrects.

He snorts. "Not at this hour," he returns, which earns him a stronger hit. He snickers.

"Uh, guys," Sam prods. "We're here."

Adam peers out the front window. "Why is there a fire?"

"Holy oil?" Dean guesses, and Sam gives a sharp nod. "Fuck."

"My sentiments exactly," Charlie agrees. "So, boys, how about we get close to the fire of doom and I'll crack that baby open?"

Sam nods in agreement and Adam clambers out of the car.

Getting close isn't hard. Dean and Sam split up and start scratching at the paint on the stones, breaking the seals as fast as they can. Adam stamps out the holy fire. He then sits next to Charlie on her chosen rock.

Sam can hear them conversing in a language he doesn't understand, one of technology and computers.

It makes him feel woefully inadequate. And old.

"Got it!" Charlie says loudly, just as Sam scratches through the last of his seals. Dean leaps to the entrance, angel blade in hand. The doors swing open and alarms blare.

Charlie stuffs her laptop into a bag and stuffs it under the rock, drawing one of the extra angel blades. "You can come with me to dismantle the bomb, Adam," she calls. Adam nods sharply and the four of them split ways, Dean and Sam heading up, Charlie and Adam going down.

When the resistance comes, they are human. Witches.

…

Michael jerks his head up when the alarms shriek. "Adam," he breathes, hope blooming in his chest.

He exchanges glances with his brothers, only to see the same grim resolve he can feel on his face reflecting back at him.

Time lets out a yell of triumph. "Fools!" she screams. "This place is going down in flames!"

She vanishes.

Michael feels dread next, a horrible, dark, sinking feeling. "Dammit!" Gabriel yells.

They are defenseless, and a rescue could only come from the Winchesters. A beeping noise catches Michael's attention, faint.

He looks around.

On the floor behind Gabriel's dim gold wings, there's a timer. 00:43.

…

Charlie doesn't know how to dismantle a bomb.

She mentions this to Adam, who looks at her like she's crazy. "What the hell, Charlie?"

"All I know is you cut a wire and hope for the best," she confesses.

So she cuts the red wire.

Adam winces, jolting backward, eyes closed. Charlie laughs in delight. "I can't believe that worked," she says cheerfully.

Adam opens his eyes. The clock on the bomb is completely stopped at 00:27.

He shakes his head. "You're crazy."

"I guess all that crime show watching worked out okay," she returns. She points backward with the angel blade and says, "Shall we?"

"I guess we should."

…

Rebecca drops to her knees as Time appears before her. Brandon does the same, his head bowed. In the background, the shadowy figures of the Grand Coven become clearer. She can make out her mother's face and her father's eyes.

Her heart leaps.

Even Death is stoppable with the right tools, she realizes gleefully.

Time smiles at them gently, "Thank you," she whispers, reaching for them.

The spirits scream.

"Come here."

Rebecca turns at the voice, and her eyes narrow in on the old witch. Rowena.

She snarls, ignoring the two men beside her, and she rises. A spell on her lips, she raises her hands.

The dark haired man cuts her vocal chords with a snap of his fingers. The little angel bites his lip and holds her in place, keeping the blood from welling in her throat. She swallows and coughs, and the angel man releases her.

"I thought-"

Time seems flabbergasted. The man smirks. "What, you thought there were four archangels?"

Rebecca's blood runs cold. Rowena smirks at her, and Rebecca's old hatred for the traitorous woman wells inside her.

…

"Cas," Dean breathes, and takes off.

Sam swears and follows, running after his brother only to stop in the doorway where Dean had been standing.

The archangels are strung up like pigs to a slaughter, their hands bound with strange-looking cuffs and their wings staked to the ceiling. Bloody feathers of all colors litter the floor.

Sam swallows back a wave of nausea as he looks at it. He searches, and finds Gabriel at the farther end of the room, staring at him.

Sam takes off running, and Gabriel smiles, briefly.

Cas screams. Dean drops the angel blade and reaches for the next one, ripping it out of the ceiling and Cas' wing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he keeps saying, over and over, and when Cas drops, Dean catches him.

Sam looks to Gabriel regretfully. The blond shakes his head. "Just get it over with," he says, closing his eyes. His wings flutter in nervousness and Sam's heart breaks.

He tugs the angel blade out. Gabriel cuts his scream off with a yelp, his wing dropping. "I love you," Sam offers, and Gabriel looks up sharply, eyes wide. Sam yanks out the next blade while Gabriel is distracted.

The short angel stumbles with his newfound freedom, and Sam tugs him closer. "I got you," he breathes.

Footsteps echo.

Adam and Charlie arrive in the room, and Michael lets out a breath. "I wasn't sure you came," he says once Adam reaches him.

"Of course I came, stupid," Adam says, and he looks around. He sees Cas and Dean, though they appear not to see him. Cas has bloody wings and scarred writs from the manacles, and he looks weak.

But Adam gets the picture.

He grimaces. "Just do it," Michael pleads. "Make it up to me later."

He exchanges a glance with Charlie, who is standing awkwardly in front of Raphael. She shrugs.

Adam looks to the ceiling and takes a breath, reaching for the blade in the left wing. He tugs it free. Michael whimpers, grinding his teeth. Adam reaches out and presses a kiss to Michael's mouth, yanking sharply at the other blade as he does so. He has to catch the archangel as he falls forward.

Charlie looks back at Raphael. "Sorry, pal, I am not going to kiss you better," she says.

Raphael rolls his eyes. "I would appreciate it if you didn't," he agrees.

"Good," Charlie says, and she has to jump a bit to get a hold of the blades. She gets them both at once and she falls at the same time Raphael does, though he manages to catch himself on his hands. "Sorry," she says, picking herself up and wincing at the pain in her side.

Raphael touches her wrist and the newfound aches dissipates. "I am going to need to spend the next hundred years grooming my wings," he says regretfully.

Charlie snorts.

…

Neither their wings nor their grace return to their prime condition in time.

The eight of them meet Luc in the clearing of Oklahoma city anyway.

"Took you long enough," Luc mutters, a deadly whirl of grace as he fends off both Time and Brandon.

Michael scowls. "We were held captive in northern Maine, brother dear, excuse us for being a little late."

"I'll consider it."

"Asshole," Adam mutters, just loud enough for Luc to hear.

"Oh, pot, kettle," Luc sings at Adam as he turns and imbeds his angel blade into Brandon's abdomen.

Time flickers.

And Rebecca breaks free of Jade's hold to race across the clearing, dropping to her knees next to her brother.

"I told you I would watch you die when you were nine years old, do you remember that?" Rebecca asks, and Brandon coughs, blood spilling from his mouth. "And I told you I would laugh."

"Bitch," Brandon snarls.

She smiles. "If you'd bothered to give a damn about anyone other than yourself," she rasps, her throat sore, "You wouldn't be lying there now. And," she adds, as she coughs up blood, too, "The only reason I am not laughing is because my throat hurts."

"You- selfish… we were… supposed to… beat them…" Brandon breathes.

And then he doesn't take another breath.

Rebecca steps back and grins at Luc, who stares at her in shock. "Au revoir, archangel Lucifer," she says. "Be grateful he didn't succeed. The angels were next."

And then she's gone.

Time screams just as the spirits behind her explode into dusty piles. "You sorry angels," she snarls.

"I don't know," Jade says, appearing behind her. "I'm not all that sorry," he finishes, and steps away.

Blood blooms on her dress and she falls backward.

Castiel steps forward and claps Jade on the shoulder. "Nicely done, brother," he says, shaking slightly. Dean's hand is outstretched toward Cas, ready to catch him. But Cas stays steady.

Luc hooks his arm through Raphael's.

"Let's go and find Father and see about your wings," he says.

The two of them fly away.

Jade looks at the place where Luc had just been with a frown, and he steps away from Castiel. "Excuse me, sir," he says, and follows Luc.

Cas wavers without Jade to lean on, and Dean comes forward, swinging Cas' arm over his shoulders.

"Can we go back and get my car?" he asks.

Cas smiles faintly.

They drive back to the bunker.

…

Gabriel sits behind Michael, gently combing his fingers through the soft green feathers, but Michael is tense anyway. He stops. "Would you like Adam to do this?" he asks.

Michael's lips thin. He gives a jerky nod.

Gabriel tries not to be offended and gestures the youngest Winchester over. "Just- be gentle. They're very sensitive," he says, and demonstrates to Adam how to right the broken feathers, how to tell which ones to pull out. "It'll sting, but it feels better after," he finishes, and leaves them to it.

He closes the door behind him, and wonders how long it will take for Adam to clean all six wings successfully.

Sam materializes by his side and tugs Gabriel close. "Hey," he says, pressing a kiss to Gabriel's temple. He leans into the touch, eyes closed. Then he tenses and pulls back. Sam is confused. "What's the matter?" he questions, looking nervous.

"Did you mean it?"

Sam blinks. Then he sighs. "Of course I meant it, Gabe. I love you."

Gabriel sucks in a sharp breath.

"Do you want help with your wings?" Sam asks, running his hands over Gabriel's shoulder blades.

Gabriel nods slowly, and Sam smiles gently. He tugs him to their bedroom and Gabriel climbs onto the bed, sitting toward the wall with his legs crossed. He spreads his wings for Sam to see, the matted feathers and bloody clumps and suddenly, Gabriel regrets saying yes.

But Sam's touch is gentle.

He rests his head on his palms and closes his eyes while Sam works in silence.

…

Dean has been doing this for over six hours, and only two of the wings are finished. "Okay, Cas, I've gotta rest a bit," he says as he tugs another feather out of Cas' top right wing. Cas nods, and folds his wings. Then he unfolds them with a short cry of pain, the very fabric of his wings in pain from all the feather loss.

Dean presses kisses to Cas' back between the wings, soft cooing noises that Cas knows better than to ever mention coming out of his mouth.

Cas sighs.

…

"Mate with me."

Jade jolts away from Luc with a racing heart. Luc glances over. "You don't have to," he clarifies, an unreadable look on his face.

Jade swallows.

…

Chuck actually orders food this time. Death nods approvingly at the other's choices. "That's quite good," he says.

Chuck grins, laughing. "Chuck Shurley has loved hot wings his whole life. It's a taste I acquired the longer I've inhabited his body."

Death hums. "Have you thought of creating a vessel, instead of possession?" he asks conversationally, more to give something for the being to consider than to generate conversation.

Chuck hums in reply. "I'd never experience the world as they do otherwise," he says. "I'll leave Chuck alone soon enough. Move on. Maybe go back to heaven and help my archangels clean up."

"You mean help Lucifer and Raphael," Death says, looking at the waiter bringing their plates.

"Hm, yes," Chuck agrees.

…

It has been a while since the archangels were here, and Hannah can't help but feel sad to hand the control back over.

Raphael pauses when he sees her approaching. Luc looks away from Jade with a frown, staring at her. Jade is unreadable.

Hannah stutters in her footfalls. But she steadies and bows in front of them, then gives a nod of acknowledgment to Jade. He returns the gesture and ignores her in favor of staring at Luc quietly, contemplative.

She wonders what he's thinking.

And then she says, "I made sure everything was in order while you were away." She hands the folder with her report to Raphael, who takes it and leafs through.

He tosses it back at her. "Then keep it up," he tells her. She blinks in shock.

He just turns away.

…

* * *

 _I based all my titles on songs... here they are:_  
 _Chapter One: Florence and the Machine- Over the Love_  
 _Chapter Two: Miley Cyrus- Hands of Love_  
 _Chapter Three: Darius Rucker- If I Told You_  
 _Chapter Four: ABBA- Slipping Through My Fingers (I listened to the cover by Meryl Streep)_  
 _Chapter Five: Brad Paisley and Demi Lovato- Without a Fight_  
 _Chapter Six: Kenny Chesney- Rich and Miserable_  
 _Chapter Seven: Miranda Lambert- Keeper of the Flame_  
 _Chapter Eight: Nate Ruess and Beck- What This World Is Coming To_  
 _Chapter Nine: Colbie Caillat- When the Darkness Comes_  
 _Chapter Ten: Stevie Nicks- Rhiannon_  
 _Chapter Eleven: Matchbox Twenty- Our Song_  
 _Chapter Twelve: Selena Gomez- Bad Liar_  
 _Chapter Thirteen: Lady Antebellum- Heart of the World_

 _What do you guys think about a story about Dean and his love for reading? I've got the first couple of pages written and would like to know if you'd be interested. Thanks!_


End file.
